Shattered
by CWBasset
Summary: The New Republic is on the brink of collapse, the Sith have reemerged, war is on the horizon—yet everything that is happening feels wrong...So when Luke Skywalker receives an offer to go back in time to change the galaxy's destiny, can he refuse?
1. Chapter 1 Shattered

**Description:**

The New Republic is on the brink of collapse, the Sith has reemerged, war is on the horizon—yet everything that is happening feels wrong... So when Luke Skywalker receives an offer to go back in time to change the galaxy's destiny, can he refuse?

Rating: T

Setting: Twenty-five years after ROTJ

Genre: Drama/Angst

Primary Character: Luke Skywalker

Secondary Character: Anakin Skywalker / Darth Vader

* * *

**Shattered**

By CWBasset

**_A/N #1: _**_I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy. _

**_A/N #2: _**_This story would not be what it is without the help of my supremely competent original beta reader, Deja Vu. Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated._

**_A/N #3: _**_I am not particularly familiar with the Star Wars Universe beyond the movies. Thankfully, Wookieepedia has proven to be a tremendous resource to help me fill in the gaps about what occurred in the EU prior to the start of this story. Although most events remain relatively consistent, there are some discrepancies. The most glaring changes are that the Yuuzhan Vong War never happened, Leia never took the time to train as a Jedi, Luke's marriage to Mara Jade and the uncomplicated birth of their son occurred five years earlier than what was dictated by the EU. Also, the Jedi Order eventually re-established their home base back at the Temple on Coruscant. There will also be other inconsistencies as this story progresses. Some established EU characters will eventually show up but may have different backgrounds to better fit into this story. Hopefully these inconsistencies will not be too distracting for you. _

**_A/N #4***:_** _If you have read this chapter prior to July 2013, you might notice some changes. In an attempt to dislodge an annoying case of writer's block, I went back to the beginning of this story for inspiration. Reluctantly, I could barely make it through the ramblings of the early chapters without cringing. Experience has taught me much as a writer since I started this story, it has also made me acutely aware of my past transgressions. That being said, I couldn't live with myself until I took some time to "clean up" a few things. _

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**Chapter 1 - Shattered: **

Coruscanti sunsets had always been spectacular. It was a rather odd anomaly, considering the artificially maintained environment of the planet. By far the most populated world in the galaxy, Coruscant was essentially a globalized city. Its natural surface entirely covered by man-made structures. Of course, to accommodate such a dense inhabitation, it had become imperative to fill the planet's stratosphere with a cluttering array of planetary mirrors and atmospheric purifiers. The deployed technology was essential in sustaining the planet as the viable heart of the galaxy for thousands of years.

Consequential to the fabricated ecology, Coruscant's temperate stability eliminated all the natural weather fluctuations that would normally denote the passage of seasons. No sweltering summer temperatures or waning displays of multi-colored foliage to indicate the transition into fall, no thick blankets of snow to mark the dormant slumber of winter, or flowery blooms and melodious birdsong to herald in the rebirth of spring. Instead, there was only the continuous gray of neutrality, as bleak and artificial as the dull plasteel and colorless ferrocrete that covered most of its landscape. The only hint of the planet's past natural splendor was those spectacular sunsets. When without warning, the sky would transform into a magnificent array of vivid shades spanning from pale ocher to deep magenta before slowly ebbing into the night.

Such a glorious visual spectacle graced the Coruscanti skies even now. Today's exhibition accentuated by somber diaphanous clouds scattered amid the heaven. Nature's grandeur was lost, however, on the lone occupant of the council room set high above the ancient ziggurat building that housed the resurrected Jedi Temple. Where normally he would have marveled at such a breathtaking scene, this day, he ignored it.

Grand Master Luke Skywalker sat with unfocused eyes as lengthening shadows crept methodically across the faded geometric designs inlaid into the room's marble floor. His impeccably shined knee-high boots and meticulously pressed dark Jedi uniform presented the persona of the strong leader he was expected to be. But today, his orderly appearance was but a fragile facade. A proffered mask that belied the agonizing sorrow that churned within his mind and burrowed unrelentingly into his soul.

Luke lowered his face into callused hands as his fingers reached into his short graying blond hair. His shoulders quivered as he struggled to control the overwhelming ache of his grief. He had come to this secluded retreat to wage another desperate battle to master his turbulent emotions, yet he was finding that accomplishing his goal had become a near impossible task. With sinking despondency, he wondered how he could manage to endure the next two hours when he had barely survived the previous two weeks.

Gathering his resolve, Luke attempted to clear his thoughts and concentrated on nothing more than the rhythmic beats of his broken heart. After a few long moments, he dropped his mechanical right hand back to his side, keeping his flesh hand clamped across his tightly closed eyes. Once his ragged breathing had calmed, he lifted his head and absent-mindedly smoothed down his gray-peppered beard.

He was a drowning man—cast adrift on a desolate sea of despair and buffeted by memories that came at him like tempestuous waves. Luke could feel his efforts to withstand their beguiling call start to crumble as their sweet allure grew too strong to resist:

_Ben, spending hours methodically stalking through green meadows as he fervently searched for grass snakes..._

_Young Anakin, one minute brazenly touting his skills at taming a wild krahbu, and in the next picking himself up from where the beast had tossed him..._

_Han, entertaining everyone as they sat around a blazing bonfire with carefully sanitized versions of adventures from his scoundrel past..._

_Leia, putting the worries of the New Republic aside for once and simply allowing herself to relax with her family..._

_His nephew, Jacen, arriving to celebrate his new Jedi knighthood with the beautiful Tenel Ka, and then announcing their plans to marry..._

_He and Mara, slipping away from the rest of the family to capture a few stolen moments together…_

They had been so happy just a few short weeks ago. The Corellian countryside had served as the perfect site for a much-needed family vacation. Mara had made all the arrangements. She had even managed to convince Han, Leia, and their children to join them. Of course, one of Mara's ulterior motives had been to arrange some time for Han and Leia to cement their recent reconciliation. And their impromptu family reunion had provided the perfect opportunity to put her plan into motion.

During their all too short stay, little thought had been given to the descending darkness that threatened to overshadow the New Republic. It had seemed as if a glimmer of light had finally managed to break through the clouds of mounting turmoil to shine down upon them. Who was to know that their fleeting illusion of happiness was doomed to end in disastrous ruin?

Luke shook his head viciously to pull away from the assault of his memories. In their dissipating wake, he once again began to berate himself for his lack of vision. He should have been more wary of the cryptic messages requesting his return to the Temple. He should have insisted that they all return to Coruscant together—even Leia had been supportive of his concerns. But Mara had passionately averred with them both to allow the families to finish their vacation as planned. Luke had rarely won an argument opposing Mara when she was set so stubbornly to get her way. So despite his indefinable anxiety, he had finally relented.

Ultimately, it was only he and Leia who had cut their vacation short. Staunchly ignoring the niggling flicker of warning in the back of his mind, he grudgingly conceded that those they were to leave behind would be safe. Mara and Han had avowed as much. So, while their families continued to enjoy their time in the Corellian countryside, he and Leia had returned to Coruscant to be informed of more rumors of war and intangible threats of impending terrorism. Neither of them, it seemed, had realized the peril in which they had placed their loved ones.

He had been in a meeting with the Jedi Council when he had sensed the explosion through the Force. His mind's eye widening in terror as he psychically watched his life shatter apart on a faraway landing platform. It was as if his heart had been wrenched from his chest—in a way—it had been. He felt a part of himself wither in agony and vanish forever as Mara and Ben's life forces flickered out of existence. At least they had not had time to suffer.

When he had managed to recover from his own initial shock, he discovered that the tragedy that had befallen Leia's family was just as unfathomable. Jaina, Anakin, Tenel Ka—they had also been killed instantly. Jacen had survived, although he had been burned severely. Han still clung to life, but his prognosis was poor. Even if he lived, he had sustained such grievous injuries that it would be impossible for him to completely recover.

Luke's anguished reverie was abruptly interrupted when the council chamber door quietly slid open. He focused his bleary eyes on his sister standing in the opening. The ornate black brocade dress she wore befitted both her station and her state of mourning. The stark contrast of the heavy onyx material against her waxen complexion made her appear every bit as fragile as her Force presence projected her to be.

It would be pointless for him to voice his concern, however. She would not admit to her weakness—not even to him. She would attempt to remain as steadfast and resilient as her position as Supreme Chancellor demanded. Luke envied her resolve, yet he once again vowed to himself to be there for her when that impenetrable facade of strength finally crumbled.

Leia slowly stepped forward, her full skirt rustling softly around her as she moved. Luke rose and went to her. The closer he came, the more he could see the impact of this ordeal reflected on her delicate features. The finely netted veil that covered her face did little to disguise her exhausted drawn expression or the puffy redness of her eyes, both of which had been caused by too many sleepless nights and bitter tears of loss. They met mid-room and embraced each other tightly, each willing the other strength and comfort.

"Are you okay?" She asked pensively.

"No," Luke answered with a raspy whispered.

Leia tightened her embrace, trying to ease her brother's emotional pain.

After a moment, Luke pulled back from her, his hands still resting on her shoulders. "How are Jacen and Han?"

"Han was put back into stasis this morning," Leia's voice broke with emotion. "The latest implants caused another stroke—"

"And Jacen?" Luke interrupted. This was not the time to allow his sister to dwell on the dwindling hopes for her husband's recovery.

A grateful hint of a smile graced Leia's lips as she recognized her brother's attempt to distract her. "His bacta treatments are helping," she paused to take a deep breath, "although the healers have confirmed that much of the scarring will be permanent. He should be released by the end of the week."

"That's good to hear," Luke said and supportively squeezed her shoulders.

"Yes, it is," she confirmed. "But... Luke, I'm so worried about him. He seems so distant. He refuses to talk to his healers, he won't allow his friends to visit him, and he doesn't even look at me when I'm there."

"I'll go and see him after the funeral," Luke offered. "He may be a Jedi Knight now, but I'm sure that his old Master can still manage a bit of influence."

"Thank you," Leia said, feigning another slight smile before the shadows of grief returned to her expression. "I—I don't know if I'm strong enough to get through this."

"You will be Leia." He drew her into another embrace, as much for his comfort as for hers. "We will make it through this together."

They remained tightly clutched within the other's arms for several long moments, they drew strength from each other and bolstered their resolve. They were truly siblings in spirit as well as blood. Although raised apart, they had been closely bonded ever since they had first found each other. It was as if each one contained a piece of the other within their soul. They had shared both joy and pain through the years. And with no need to voice their understanding, they both knew that this tragedy had irrevocably changed them more deeply than anyone in the universe could imagine.

In their shared sorrow, the Force quietly began stir around them. The memorial service would begin soon. Luke could feel the slight pull at the edge of his awareness as Masters, Knights, Padawans, and secular guests gathered for the ceremony. Without a word, they released each other—yet kept an arm around the other's waist in a united offer of support. Leaving the council chamber together, they stood in muted reflection as they rode the turbolift down to the main level. When the doors opened, the deep, resonating echoes of soft chanting could be heard wafting through cavernous halls.

Luke let the Force as well as their shared grief guide them until they entered the small chamber adjacent to the Temple atrium. With attendance limited to friends, many of whom were considered as close to them as family, the confined space was filled to capacity. Standing in stoic silence, their grief-stricken faces well hidden beneath dark cowls and heavy shawls, a comforting flow of subdued Force energy could be felt softly thrumming among the room's occupants—a gentle offering of both temperance and calm to all who had come to mourn.

At the front of the dimly lit chamber stood an unlit pyre that had been prepared for the impending rite. It was empty by necessity. There had been little that remained from the shuttle's explosion—the terrorists had done their jobs all too well. This funeral would be a memorial only, a final farewell to five souls whose brilliance in the Force had been extinguished far too soon.

As Grand Master of the Jedi Order, it was Luke's place to officiate at such functions. Despite the fact that this funeral was to commemorate the loss of so many members of his own family, he would not place this burden on another. As the senior Jedi took his position at the head of the pyre, he grimly reflected that he had officiated far too often at this type of ceremony—especially over the past few years.

Luke heard little of the eulogies that were offered. There were no words that could mitigate his personal grief. All that he would remember of the service was the suffocating silence as each attendant reflected on the lives of those who had passed. As the services came to their conclusion, Luke reflexively waved his hand across his chest, igniting the bed of the funeral pyre. He numbly observed crimson flames began to rise, consuming their fuel hungrily as they symbolically took the spirits of their loved ones away to reunite with the Force.

As Luke watched with dull eyes, his thoughts flickered to the first time he had lit a pyre for a Jedi's passing. His memory took him back to a lonely clearing on a verdant Endor Moon, to a solitary commemoration erected by a son for his father. Then, he had watched the feral flames free the tortured soul of the father he would never know from the imprisoning armor of his greatest enemy. He had naturally felt grief for the man's passing, yet he had also experienced joy that his father had finally found his peace.

This time, there was no acceptance of fate, no rejoicing at the release of a spirit, no tranquil acknowledgment of destiny. This time, there was only grief, sorrow, emptiness—and a gut-wrenching sense of hopelessness. Each moment that passed seemed to take with it another small bit of light from his shattered soul. He solemnly wondered how long it would be before his overwhelming anguish finally extinguished all that was left.

As he watched the flames slowly diminish, Luke felt a small hand slip into his. He turned slightly to see the anguished brown eyes of his sister looking to him for support. He attempted to give her a smile to show his appreciation of her concern, but he knew that it could be only perceived as a grimace.

"Luke," she desperately whispered. "Please tell me that everything will be all right, again—that our lives will somehow get better."

"I wish I could, Leia." It was the only reply he could offer.


	2. Chapter 2 Spiraling Into Darkness

**_A/N #1: _**_I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy._

**_A/N #2: _**_This story would not be what it is without the help of my extremely competent original beta reader, Deja Vu. Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated._

**_A/N #3: _**_This chapter has been revised and re-posted as of July 2013._

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**Chapter 2 - Spiraling into Darkness:**

_Six Months Later:_

Grand Master Luke Skywalker turned his attention away from his peers to gaze longingly out the large transparisteel windows. Boredom from sitting through another arduously long council meeting was causing him to harbor an irrational desire for escape. Already lasting for more than half the day, Luke could no longer remain focused on what was being said.

As with most of these gatherings of late, instead of invigorating discussions regarding the ongoing resurrection and expansion of the Jedi Order, it had morphed into a seemingly endless barrage of excruciatingly detailed intelligence reports. Whether it was the discovery of a new terrorist organization, militant skirmishes spurred by squabbles over territorial borders, or an ever-increasing number of illegal activities that hindered the various trade routes; the litany of information had degenerated into nothing more than one long monotonous diatribe of escalating destruction that was all too common.

Luke steepled his fingers against his bearded chin as he leaned back into the cushioned chair. He sank into a cynical reverie wondering privately on the degree of his nephew's involvement in any of the recent activities being reported. Although he had once believed it would be impossible for Jacen to take part in such nefarious deeds, he knew that grief and desperation could drive the sanest man over the edge. He battled those demons daily himself. He remembered with deep sorrow the last time he had seen the boy.

'~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~'

_Walking down the empty corridor at a determined pace, Luke kept his eyes focused on his destination. He paused when he reached the dormitory cell door, and took a moment to breathe deeply in a final attempt to dispel his frustration. After weeks of ignoring the inflammatory rumors that had circulated through the Temple, the accounts of this latest incident had finally stirred him to action. He truly did not want to believe the reports that the situation had deteriorated this severely._

_Knowing that he would not be receiving an invitation to enter, he waved a hand to release the lock and stepped into the apartment. His breath hitched in his throat as he quickly surveyed the main room's grim condition. It was anything but the neat and orderly space that was his nephew's usual wont. Splintered remnants of broken furniture lay strewn around the floor. The room's Comm station had apparently been smashed and ripped apart, and exposed circuitry sparked dangerously as it dangled from the wall._

_A glint of movement caught his attention, and he made his way through the wreckage toward its source. As he entered the smaller sleeping cell in the back of the apartment, he noted that the disarray here was even worse. Scant possessions tossed into haphazard piles littered the floor and the disheveled bed. Amid the chaos stalked the tall, sinewy figure of his nephew._

_Despite the room's dim lighting, Jacen's rugged features were still clearly visible—including the deep crevasses and raised puckers of the thickly roped and discolored scars that covered most of the right side of his face. His physical disfigurement had come to represent a constant reminder of the explosion and ensuing conflagration that had taken away so much from both men. But the external damage was only part of the injuries that Luke knew Jacen had suffered. The Jedi Grand Master was far more concerned with the unseen wounds that had apparently formed and festered within the volatile young man._

_Blatantly ignoring his uncle's presence, Luke watched as the distraught Jedi hastily continued cramming his belongings into a large tattered haversack. He needed no Force intuitiveness to perceive that his nephew's emotions were tightly coiled. The young man's movements were akin to those of a cornered Nexu preparing to pounce. Sorrow washed over him as he suddenly realized that he may have waited too long before initiating this intervention. It took him several moments before he could bring himself to speak._

_"What are you planning to do?" Luke struggled to keep his voice calm and level._

_"What does it look like?" His nephew's terse words buffeted him like a tempest. "I'm getting out of here."_

_"Jacen, you've barely been released by the healers, why must you leave the Temple so soon?" Luke frowned, unable to discern the source of his nephew's erratic behavior. He reached out for the young man's elbow._

_"Why do you think, Uncle?" Jacen whipped his arm away. "It's been nearly three months! Three months, and neither you nor your precious council have lifted a finger to bring the Brilar scum to justice."_

"_You know that's not true," Luke protested, dolefully taking note of Jacen's refusal to address him by his Jedi title. "We have worked exceptionally hard to isolate those responsible. Certainly,_ _there have been accusations and rumors, but we have no proof of the Brilar's guilt. We can't persecute an entire race to weed out the few who are guilty. We must think of the innocent."_

"_There is no such thing as an innocent Brilarian," the disfigured Jedi spat as he tossed his head back and set his jaw defiantly. _"_You know as well as I that they support the factions committed to destabilizing the New Republic."_

_"We can't proceed without proof." Closing his eyes, Luke took a shaky breath. "It is not the Jedi way."_

"_To hell with your sanctimonious 'Jedi way,'" Jacen fumed. "What good are all of your _'Jedi'_ abilities if you're not willing to use them?"_

"_Jacen, please," Luke chided. "You're speaking as if you are no longer part of the Order."_

_"Well—maybe I'm not," Jacen snarled._

_Luke cringed and shook his head. "I know you don't mean that," he disputed. "You need to calm down. Take some time to—"_

_"There is no more time to take," Jacen seethed vehemently. "Can't you understand that? Every moment you waste sequestered away in your precious council meetings you allow the Brilar time to plot their next attacks."_

_"You can't fight an entire race by yourself, Jacen," Luke countered. "You must control your anger—"_

_"Or what?" Jacen challenged. "It will destroy me?" He chuckled mirthlessly as his once handsome features twisted into a menacing sneer. "Let me enlighten you, dear Uncle. It's too late to worry over the destruction of my soul. The Brilar already took care of that when they detonated their explosion on Corellia. I have come to accept my fate. I know that I will never know peace again. Treachery has honed me into an instrument of vengeance, and it is past time for me to start making the guilty pay for their crimes. Since the Jedi remain unwilling to help me fulfill my new destiny, then I will seek out those who will."_

_Leaving a stunned Jedi Master in his wake, Jacen grabbed his haversack and tossed it over his shoulder as he stormed out of the room…_

'~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~'

"Master Skywalker?"

Luke started at the mention of his name. He pulled his thoughts back to the present and glanced to his right where Master Kyp Durron was studying him with concern.

"Yes, Kyp?" Luke responded with a scratchy, unused voice. He immediately cleared the roughness from his throat and shifted to a more alert posture.

"What is your opinion regarding Master Hamner's report?" The younger man repeated slowly with a steady gaze.

Luke furrowed his brow as he tried to recall the information that had just been given—which he had inattentively missed. He quickly gave up the futile effort with a vexed shake of his head. "Forgive me, my friends," he apologized as he glanced at his comrades seated around the council chamber. "I seem to have become mired in my own thoughts."

"That was pretty obvious," Kyp mumbled scathingly under his breath.

The Grand Master chose to ignore the jibe. He was sure that his dear friend would be chastising him later for his lapse of attentiveness.

"Please, Master Hamner," Luke continued, "would you restate your point?"

Master Kenth Hamner looked down to review his notes that were displayed on his datapad. Known throughout the Order as an extraordinary investigator and a renowned military tactician, the resourceful Corellian had once been a colonel in the Rebel Alliance before resigning his commission to begin his Jedi training. His analytical mind and ability to see beyond the norm were second to none. With a sense of well-earned confidence, the Corellian Master raised his head, coolly appraising his fellow Jedi with hard gray eyes.

"As I have already stated, Masters," Hamner said. "From the intelligence that we have been able to gather, it seems that many, if not all, of these recent attacks are following a set pattern in hopes of causing the greatest damage to the most vulnerable areas of each targeted sector. It is my opinion that there is an underlying faction organizing the systematic destruction of the New Republic."

Luke straightened even further in his chair at hearing the seriousness of Hamner's hypothesis. He barely noticed the strained faces of the other Masters as a tenuous silence permeated the room.

"This is distressing news, Master Hamner," Luke's soft voice broke the intense tableau. His attention acutely directed toward the older man. "I am sure that this Council, as well as I, would like to know if you have come to any conclusions about who is behind this 'underlying faction'?"

"Yes, I have," Hamner answered cautiously. "After conducting an extensive investigation, I have come to believe that our true enemy—is the Sith."

"That's impossible!" Master Saba Sebathyne cried as she nearly launched herself from her chair. Her red eyes flashed dangerously as her scaled reptilian face darkened with incredulity. "The Sith were destroyed with the fall of the Empire."

"I wish it were so, Master Sebathyne," Hamner countered with a resolute shake of his head. "I have checked my findings multiple times and meditated on their validity for days. I am sure that the information I have uncovered is correct. I cannot find any other viable alternatives other than this one, obviously distressing, conclusion." His convictions were absolute, and the truth of his revelation radiated through the Force.

"If your findings are true," Kip's deep voice rumbled with foreboding, "then you can bet that the Sith won't be content to remain in the shadows for long."

"We could be facing another galactic war," Master Cilghal said in barely more than a whisper. The Mon Calamari healer partially closed her large watery eyes as if pondering visions of a future filled with devastation and horror that only she could see. "It could very well mean the end for both the New Republic and the Jedi."

Luke watched dispassionately as the others debated the validity of Master Hamner's claim and its ominous prospects for the future. Feeling oddly detached, it didn't take long before his mental focus began to fade. The voices around him dulled, and his vision blurred until all that remained were his own personal thoughts and memories.

_Sith…_

The word alone was enough to bring disquiet to Luke's soul. The last time the Sith had risen to power, two Lords had not only usurped a democratic government that had ruled peacefully for a thousand generations, but had also orchestrated the near eradication of a thriving Jedi Order. Once they established their tyrannical reign, the Emperor and his fearsome henchman had maintained their merciless stranglehold over the galaxy for decades.

_Had it already been a quarter of a century since the last two known Sith Lords had destroyed themselves on an Imperial battle station,_ Luke silently questioned?

Of course, it had. Luke had been the sole surviving witness to that extraordinary event. He had felt the immense shift of power when his father had chosen the light over darkness and sacrificed himself to save his son and destroy the Emperor. That action alone should have changed the direction of the galaxy forever—_Balance the Force_—according to the ancient Jedi prophecy that Luke had discovered many years later. But had Anakin Skywalker's final defining act of redemption truly been the end of the Sith?

_Apparently not..._

Not when Palpatine and Vader, fueled by paranoia and avarice, secretly recruited dozens of Force-sensitive agents, assassins, and partially trained minions. Each dark underling vying for the coveted rank of apprentice in the event one of their Lords fell. In fact, Luke's own beloved wife had been raised as an Emperor's Hand. Although allowed only limited training in the Force, she was exceptionally well schooled in other deadly arts. The proficiency of her lethal skills was beyond question.

_No, the Sith had not perished over Endor, _Luke knew. They had spread their evil too far and wide for just the demise of their leaders to, completely, end their influence.

It had taken two assassination attempts by his future wife for Luke to realize that he could not simply neglect the residual evil that had remained in the galaxy. Ignoring his sister's vehement protests, he resigned his commission in the fledgling New Republic and focused his efforts solely on his ultimate goal. Driven by visions, he sought out other Force-sensitive beings and offer them training in hopes of resurrecting a new Jedi Order.

Inspired by his own father's turn from darkness, Luke had made a point to find the remnants of the Sith operatives—those beings who had only known the dark side of the Force. He had searched them out. Offing them a way to the light as he had tried to do for his father. Many of the most valiant and courageous Knights of the New Order had once been thought irredeemable—Mara included.

But had he found all of them? Even then, he had doubted it. There was no question in Luke's mind that pockets of evil continued to fester in the shadows, remaining hidden in the dark corners of the galaxy. And with Master Hamner's disturbing revelation, it was apparent that the dark side had finally gained back enough strength to assert itself in the galaxy once more.

For months, Luke had tried to ignore the smoldering sense of unease that plagued his meditations. He had attempted to rationalize the disturbing imagery of galactic war and cataclysmic destruction as symptoms of the ever-deepening depression caused by the loss of his family. But his excuses were no longer valid. Hearing Master Hamner's declaration, there was no denying that malevolence was on the rise once again.

The illusion of peace was fading. The galaxy was once again on the verge of being plunged back into darkness. Two factions: Jedi and Sith—each the mortal enemy of the other—were positioned to face off again. And as with every prior conflict, the galaxy would be their battleground. The fate of trillions of innocent lives were about to be irrevocably affected once more.

Luke wasn't sure that he had the strength to face the darkness again. He wasn't sure any of them did.

He had a very bad feeling about this...


	3. Chapter 3 Mysterious Delivery

**_A/N #1: _**_I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy._

**_A/N #2: _**_This story would not be what it is without the help of my supremely competent original beta reader, Deja Vu. Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated._

**_A/N #3: _**_This chapter has been revised and re-posted as of July 2013._

* * *

**Chapter 3: Mysterious Delivery**

Strips of light and shadow played their familiar afternoon dance across the colorfully designed tile of the cavernous temple corridor. Oblivious to the display, his arms folded within the deep sleeves of his dark tunic, the Grand Master moved methodically toward his private apartment. His dear friend, Master Durron, walked beside him.

"You look terrible," Kyp observed.

"Why, thank you, Master Durron." Luke's lips twitched into a slight sardonic smile at his companion's brutally honest assessment. "I believe that is the nicest thing you have said to me in weeks."

"Don't brush me off, Luke," Kyp growled. "You can't keep pushing yourself like this. Continue at the pace you're going and you'll end up in the healer's ward—or worse."

"I'm fine, Kyp," Luke argued. "I just have a lot on my plate right now."

"Speaking of plates," the tall Deyerian Jedi pushed, "when was the last time you sat down and ate a well-balanced meal?"

"_What?_ When were you appointed as my keeper?" Luke shook his head as he attempted to deflect the inquiry with feigned sarcasm.

"It's obvious that someone needs to keep tabs on you." Kyp's deep voice was edged with irritation. "Do I need to get your sister down here?"

"I said I'm fine," Luke snapped in genuine annoyance. "Leia barely has enough energy to take care of Han and deal with the needs of the New Republic. I won't allow her to start worrying about me too."

"What makes you think she is any less concerned than the rest of us?" Kyp growled.

Wanting to avoid an escalation to their argument, Luke remained stoically silent as he continued on their way. Of course, his friend was fully justified in his observations. Luke had pushed himself relentlessly over the past months. He had purposely been doing so with exceptionally little thought for his own needs. He would be foolish to believe that his friends did not see his haggard state when they looked upon him. He had lost a considerable amount of weight. His face, now pallid and gaunt, harbored dark smudges below his sunken, dull eyes. His clothes were rumpled. His hair was longer and less kept. The hint of gray that had barely graced his temples and was only slightly discernible in his beard a few months ago had now infiltrated further across his scalp and chin. He was a physical wreck, but it couldn't be helped.

There was a tempest coming. Each day brought darker news than the last. Although the threat of the Sith still remained ethereal and shrouded, the telltale signs of their reemergence in the galaxy could no longer be ignored. As Grand Master of the Jedi Order, Luke felt obligated to take the lead in preparations for their inevitable confrontation. He had committed himself to spend nearly every waking hour doing so.

If he was not working on revisions to the Jedi training program, then he was reading through the ever-growing influx of intelligence reports. When he wasn't leading their regular council meetings, then he was working with a select group of Jedi and members of the New Republic military in strategic planning sessions.

Even when there were a few moments to spare, he found that time to be anything but restful. His private search to locate his nephew had so far been frustratingly ineffectual. His attempts at meditation were no longer rejuvenating for his spirit but exhausting. His visions providing no insight into ways to avoid the coming darkness, but instead, filled with images of death and destruction that loomed in the near future.

But it wasn't only the foreboding threat of war that pushed him beyond normal limits; he needed to keep his mind and body busy so he wouldn't have time to think—to remember—to mourn... Pulling away from the outside world and immersing himself in the Order's activities had seemed the only way that he could keep hold of his sanity.

Was he hiding away from the galaxy? Probably. He hadn't left the sanctuary of the Temple in months. Soon after the funeral, he had locked the door and walked away from his apartment in the Galaxia Towers and taken up residency back here at the Temple. He had justified the move as a need to stay closely involved with the daily affairs of running the Order. In actuality, he just couldn't bring himself to face those empty rooms again. Couldn't bear to see Ben's untouched toy models lined up lovingly on the shelves of his room, or walk past walls decorated with framed holos of happier times. Couldn't enter the bedroom he had shared with… her.

The echoes of approaching footfalls broke Luke out of his dark reverie. Turning toward the sound, both men watched as a young human initiate careened into view, rounding the corner at the far end of the corridor. No older than nine or ten, the flushed-face boy grabbed a nearby column as his feet slid out from under him and he barely avoided colliding with the wall.

"Slow down, young one," Kyp admonished sternly.

"Masters," the blond-haired boy gasped while regaining his balance. He gave a quick nod of recognition before taking off again and pelting forward toward the two men.

"I think you're losing your touch, Master Durron," Luke mumbled from behind the raised hand covering his mouth. He was finding it difficult to maintain his stoic facade and resist the amused smile that threatened to creep onto his lips. The boy's enthusiasm, though chaotic, was infectious.

Kyp gave Luke an irritated glare as both men sidestepped to opposite walls to avoid an imminent collision. The initiate's bright blue eyes had grown impossibly wide as it became clear that he had not anticipated the mirror-smooth tile that graced the corridor floor. Flailing his arms, panicked alarm overtook the youngling's fair features as his attempts to slow down had no effect.

Reaching out with a long muscled arm, Kyp grabbed a handful of tunic before the boy could barrel into them. The youth held onto the Deyerian Master desperately as his feet continued to scramble for purchase.

"What is the meaning of this, young one?" Kyp reprimanded. "You know you should not be running in the halls."

"Forgive me, Masters," the boy panted his apology. His face was now a brilliant shade of red from both exertion and embarrassment. He backpedaled a few steps to stand nervously before the two towering Master Jedi. As if suddenly realizing the gravity of his inappropriate behavior, the youngling jerked forward into a deep bow to display his respect for the two Council members. Reluctantly his ungainly action nearly caused him to tumble forward.

"Easy, there." Luke tried to calm the boy while giving his friend an admonishing glance. "Take a breath. It's okay."

"Your name is Caleb, is it not?" Kyp pointedly ignored the Grand Master as he sternly questioned the youngling.

The boy's brow creased for a moment before nodding his assent emphatically. He desperately continued to try to control his ragged breathing.

"Caleb?" Luke asked as he turned his full attention expectantly to the Deyerian Master.

"Caleb Zarms," Kyp supplied dispassionately. As the Jedi's Temple Master, it was part of Kyp's responsibilities to be well versed in regard to all the initiates and Padawans in residence. "He arrived from Jagga II a few months ago." Durron turned his attention back to the boy, "I believe you have recently been assigned to front desk duty."

"Yes, Master." A beatific smile broke across the boy's freckled face. "This is my first week. In fact, I just finished my shift."

The front desk was usually one of the first assignments for new initiates. Duties would range from signing for deliveries to monitoring the Temple's main communication hub. Initiates were also expected to represent the Order and answer questions from the many members of the public who would wander into the Temple foyer. It was a safe duty, but one that would begin the fundamental lessons of responsibility and observation.

"I see," Kyp raised his chin and folded his arms across his chest. He straightened to his full intimidating height, assuming the unyielding role of Temple Master that had long intimidated the most rebellious youngling. "So tell us, Caleb. What urgent need brings you careening through these corridors like a charging reek?"

The boy blanched instantly. "Th-this, Master," he stuttered in apprehension as he shakily pulled out a dark, round orb from the inside fold of his tunic. The strange object appeared to be made of crystal, and it barely fit in the young boy's open hand. "I—I was told that I needed to get this to the Grand Master right away."

"Master Nafeel sent you on this errand?" Kyp drawled skeptically. Hagan Nafeel had only recently been assigned as Kyp's assistant. Although still young, he had proven to be impressively organized and highly capable of supervising initiates in their daily routines. It would be extremely unusual for him to forgo proper protocol and send this boy directly to the Grand Master.

"No, Sir," Calab replied. "Master Nafeel doesn't know about it."

"And why is that?" Kyp asked.

"W—well," the boy stuttered, "I was on duty at the front entrance this morning when a courier stopped by and handed it to me. He said that it was extremely valuable and that I wasn't to show it to anyone else. He told me that it had been created especially for you, Grand Master,and that he was entrusting me to deliver it personally to—"

"Thank you, Caleb," Luke broke in and quickly took the object away from the boy's hand. He was immediately wary of this mysterious courier and the nature of the suspicious device that he had placed into the custody of a child.

Holding up the inscrutable object, Luke examined it critically. The orb appeared to be perfectly smooth with no hint of design, decoration, or marks of imperfection on its globular surface. Although it had appeared to be black at first glance, the waning rays of the afternoon light that danced off its semi-translucent surface disclosed that the crystal was actually a deep blue in color.

"Did the courier indicate why this item was so valuable?" Luke asked distractedly.

"No, Sir. Not exactly," the youth wrinkled his forehead as he tried to answer the question. "He said the message that it contained was critically vital, Grand Master. And that you alone would know how to retrieve it."

"What did this courier look like?" Kyp inquired of the youngling.

"I—I don't remember, exactly," the boy dropped his head and grimaced as he realized that he should have been more observant. "He just looked like a regular courier, I guess."

Both men exchanged a perplexing glance, neither one quite certain what a "regular" courier would look like. A moment later, their attention was centered back on the mysterious object.

"Some type of Holocron?" Kyp wondered aloud. "I don't recognize the configuration at all."

"Neither do I," Luke confirmed. "But it holds something within. I can feel a vibration through the Force." He turned and queried the boy once more. "Did the courier say anything else?"

"I—I remember him saying that the orb was a 'vessel of great importance' and that the fate of the galaxy depended my getting it to you."

"And you believed him?" Kyp raised a skeptical eyebrow as he continued to observe the boy's agitated state.

"The Force seemed to want me to," Caleb stated and then bit his lower lip in hesitation. After taking a moment to strengthen his resolve, he straightened his shoulders and raised his chin to look up earnestly at the Grand Master. "I think I could feel the Force telling me to bring it to you."

Kyp huffed and gave the boy one last skeptical look before again centered his attention on the crystal globe in question. "Well," he mused quietly. "It appears that Master Hamner has a new mystery to unravel."

"Indeed," Luke confirmed.


	4. Chapter 4 Persistent Invitation

**_A/N #1:_**_ I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy._

**_A/N #2: _**_This story would not be what it is without the help of my supremely competent original beta reader, Deja Vu. Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated._

**_A/N #3:_**_ This chapter was revised and re-posted as of July 2013._

* * *

**Chapter 4 - Persistent Invitation**

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_The repetitive, tuneless rhythm continued to swirl around him. It was mesmerizing. He couldn't find its source, although he remained hesitant as to whether he truly wanted to do so. The sounds, consisting only of a forced rush of air, seemed frustratingly familiar. He knew that he recognized the slow harmonious cycle, but it had been a terribly long time since he had last heard it. Still, it was unforgettable and disquieting. It resonated through him to his very core._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_He scanned the dimly lit tunnel in which he stood. The roughly hewn walls seemed to emanate a surreal quality that only enhanced his feeling of apprehension. He slowly placed his organic left hand on the cool stone of the cavern. He could feel the Force thumbing through the rock itself. It pulsed with baited anticipation under his touch. This place was alive. It knew he was here. It called for his attention. It urged him forward._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_He forced himself to move, willing his reticent muscles to carry him on. Time no longer held relevance for him. Had he been wandering in this macabre labyrinth for an hour? A day? A lifetime? It didn't seem to matter anymore._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_Rounding a bend, he discovered an opening in the side wall of the cave. Welcome light streamed in through the hole. As he quickened his pace, a wisp of fresh air brushed past him, cleansing the stink of must and stale dampness from his nostrils. Stepping through the opening, he found himself on a rough, uneven ledge that protruded precariously from the mountain that he had just exited. He had no need to investigate further to know he was high above the ground. The feeling was akin to standing on one of the balconies that adorned so many of the structures that covered his home world. But that was ridiculous. This was not Coruscant._

_He brought up a hand to shield his eyes from the glare of a distant, alien sun. Once his vision adjusted to the change in brightness, he scanned the horizon. The terrain of this world was utterly unfamiliar. The cloudless sky was not traditional blue, but deep lavender in color. The landscape was covered with unadorned conical spindles of jagged rock. He could not see the ground from where he stood, but he knew that it would be as dead and lifeless as the stone spires that reached hungrily towards the horizon like grasping claws._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_The repetitive tune that had accompanied his travels had grown considerably quieter now that he had left the darkness, but it continued. He knew that the source of the sounds would remain well hidden in the shadows, awaiting his return. His perceived escape from the confining maze of tunnels should have been comforting, but it wasn't. He had a mission to accomplish, and this minor diversion would do nothing but delay it. Though he drew no pleasure in the thought of re-entering the network of endless passageways, it was his obligation to do so. Everything depended on it._

_He turned away from the desolate surroundings and plunged back into the darkness. He continued on as a renewed sense of urgency hastened his pace._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_The reverberating echoes seemed to amplify with each step; its instigator's foreboding presence began to creep into the fringe of his awareness. He was close. He wondered if he were the hunter of the source of these sound**s**, or if he were actually the quarry. Instinctively, he reached out to his side to finger the smooth metal shaft of his lightsaber._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_He jerked to a halt. A flash of movement caused his breath to catch in his throat before the image disappeared down the darkened corridor. His desperate attempts to pierce through the gloom were frustratingly ineffective. But then—then he saw it again..._

_It was impossible—was it not? _He _couldn't be here, not anymore. But the distinctive mop of unruly strawberry blond hair was unmistakable; the inherited fluidity of movement was unquestionable; the beloved waist-tall frame of a boy who no longer existed was undeniable. He stood trembling as his brain tried frantically to process what his eyes had seen._

"_Dad, come on." The recognizable voice of his own child resonated back to him through the tunnel._

"_Ben?" He shakily questioned the darkness._

"_Hurry," the boy's voice urged, "before it's too late."_

_As if breaking unseen chains that held him to the floor, he willed his body forward._

"_Ben, stop!" He yelled with all the authority he could muster._

"_I can't, Dad," his son implored. "You have to come."_

_He broke into a frantic run as he tried to catch up to the boy. He followed the sound of light footfalls that diminished as the distance between them increased. The darkening gloom ominously seemed to close around him, making reliance on his vision nearly useless. He stretched out with the Force to let it guide him as he rushed deeper into the core of the mountain._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_The reverberating echo would not stop. He ignored it, pushing his body ahead in pursuit of his son. He disregarded the tingling warning the Force was giving him and continued his pursuit unabated. He broke out of the constricting tunnel and stopped abruptly as he entered a large open space. Though he could not see what was around him, the Force told him he was alone in a cavernous chamber._

"_Ben," he called frantically. "Ben, where are you?" He received no answer._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_The noise was near deafening, now. The sound mingled with his own labored breathing until it became almost synonymous._

_Breathing..._

_That was what the noise was… _

_Mechanical breathing..._

_With eyes widened in horror, he spun around in the darkness. A glint of small flickering lights drew his attention back to the tunnel he had just exited. Slowly, methodically, the hulking and impossibly tall figure of an unforgettable menace began to form in the gloom. He had to take several steps backward and tip his head up to keep the looming shape of the cybernetic monster in his vision. With the nearly imperceptible motion of a gloved hand, a deadly blade of blood-red plasma burst from the hilt of the enigma's lightsaber, bathing the walls of the cavern in an unholy glow._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_It took him only an instant to realize that the creature of darkness before him was not his self-redeemed father. It wasn't the broken shell of a man who sacrificed his life for the love of his son. There was no lingering glimmer of light persistently clinging to his aura; there was no perceivable conflict._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_Instead, there was only an assemblage of festering anger and hate. The personification of everything unrepentant and evil, this abomination of nature was the ultimate Sith warrior. Long had he served as the definitive enemy of the light, bent only on wanton destruction. And here he was—as his specter had appeared in a dank cave on Dagobah, as he had stood on a raised platform in a steam-filled chamber on Bespin, and as he had dueled without the barest hint of mercy on the cold floors of a doomed battle station._

_It was him—in all his horrific glory._

_...Darth Vader._

_'~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~'_

Luke bolted upright from his sweat-soaked bedclothes. His chest was heaving as he gasped desperately for breath, his adrenaline-infused body quivered. In a disoriented frenzy, he scanned the small, dark room until his vision began to register the familiar shapes that made up his sleeping quarters. Closing his eyes tightly, he slowly forced his mind to reacquaint itself with reality.

The circulating air of the climate-controlled room caressed the fevered bare skin of his torso. He concentrated on regulating his ragged breathing in a focused attempt to restore his tattered sense of control. As his body calmed, he released his chaotic emotions into the Force. Lowering his chin to his chest, he clenched his fists against his throbbing temples.

_Another nightmare..._

They had been plaguing him for weeks. Ever since he had received that enigmatic holocron delivered by a mysterious courier, his dreams had been filled with varied scenarios of abstract terrors. Although their imagery often changed, the core of each disturbing episode was the same: Unfamiliar surroundings, the need to accomplish a pressing task, the growing sense of urgency, and his father—or actually—Darth Vader, hindering his search for answers.

Luke inhaled deeply and exhaled a slow, measured breath. Once again, he questioned why these recurring dreams contained his father. Although memories of the tragic enigma of the man had always remained close to the surface of his consciousness, it was rarely the armored monstrosity that he would envision when his thoughts drifted to his father. His mind's eye would manifest either the visage of the deathly white, scarred face of a man looking back on a broken life with mournful blue eyes or, more often, the figure of a tall youthful Jedi full of unfathomable power and unlimited potential whose ghostly image he had once fleetingly glimpsed on Endor.

He reached out with a still-shaking hand to brush over the control panel and bring the light level of his room to a slightly higher intensity. Glancing at the nightstand next to his bed, he glared at the apparent instigator of his near-nightly episodes of insanity. Swallowing hard, Luke reached out and picked up the offending object. Smooth and cold to his touch, it appeared to be no more than a simple orb of crystal. But it wasn't that benign.

The mysterious globe had managed to cause more than its share of consternation since it arrived. Despite a lengthy inquiry, no trace could be found of the courier who had delivered it to the Temple. Residing in Master Hamner's research lab for more than a month had provided virtually no answers. The astute Jedi investigator had been unable to learn anything regarding either its origin or the message that it contained. Hamner had been more frustrated than Luke had ever seen him when he returned the orb and begrudgingly suggested that the encrypted security on the device was specifically designed to be unlocked only by the intended recipient.

It had taken additional weeks, and several long periods of deep meditation for him to decipher the encryption codes that held its missive captive. And once he had, he had almost felt foolish. The cipher was merely a combination of his father's first name along with the date of his and his sister's original lifeday.

The retrieved information that had been stored in the holocron was even more ambiguous. The device held a formal request for a meeting proffered by the distorted image of a being disguised in a hooded cloak. He claimed to be B'Tak Katan representing an organization called the Temporal Ward, and declared that he had urgent information to impart that would affect the galaxy. He further stated that he would provide information only to the Jedi Grand Master—and that he would do so only privately and in person. The rest of the message consisted of a detailed set of coordinates for an as yet uncharted planet called Agnostos that clung to the very fringe of the Outer Rim, and the complicated maze of hyperspace jump points that were needed to get there. Allowing for refueling, the outlined itinerary would take several days to complete.

Once the mystery had finally been solved, he had simply wanted to dismiss the entire affair as some type of elaborate prank. But as the intensity of his nightmares increased, so had an ethereal sense of urgency to heed the message that the orb had delivered. Apparently, the Force itself was finding its own unique way to encourage his acceptance that the Temporal Ward's entreat had been genuine.

With a heavy sigh of resignation, he realized that any further attempt to rest this night would be futile. Besides, he would need to make better use of his time over the next few hours. He had affairs to organize, plans to solidify, messages to impart... He had much to accomplish if he planned to leave at first light.

He supposed that he could catch up on his sleep later. It would take approximately four days to get to Agnostos. Years of experience had taught him that he would have little else to occupy his time while in the cramped cockpit of his much-loved X-wing fighter—other than worry about what he would find when he arrived, of course.


	5. Chapter 5 Secret Rendezvous

**_A/N #1:_**_ I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy._

**_A/N #2:_**_ This story would not be what it is without the help of my supremely competent original beta reader, Deja Vu. Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated._

**_A/N #3:_**_ This chapter was inspired by Ray Bradbury's short story: _"A Sound of Thunder"_. I read it many years ago, and the memory of it has stayed with me ever since._

**_A/N #4: _**_This chapter was revised and re-posted as of July 2013._

* * *

**Chapter 5 – Secret Rendezvous:**

The trip across the Galaxy had been as agonizingly long and mind-numbing as Luke had feared. He could only hope that his ensuing meeting with the Temporal Ward would prove this reckless adventure worth the effort. The Jedi Grand Master glanced to his right and frowned as he caught sight of his intended destination. He had no idea what he was getting himself into.

Agnostos was a lone satellite orbiting an ancient star of little distinction. The planet's mottled reddish-brown topography added dramatically to its perception of desolate isolation. Despite all the time that he and Artoo had spent sifting through the remnants of the Jedi archives, neither of them had managed to uncover any information about the planet, its history, or its indigenous population. Moreover, they could find absolutely no reference to the mysterious sect calling themselves the Temporal Ward_. _If the archives had been complete, Luke would have wondered if the data had been deliberately removed. As it was, he still couldn't dismiss the niggling feeling that someone from the old Jedi Order had purposely wanted to keep the existence of both Agnostos and the Temporal Ward well hidden.

"Go ahead and transmit our identification code, Artoo," Luke ordered his trusty astromech droid embedded in the fighter behind him. "Better request landing coordinates as well." The little droid emitted a frenzy of electronic beeps acknowledging the command.

Luke maneuvered his X-Wing through a series of tight barrel-rolls as he dropped into orbit above the foreign world. Even from this altitude, the Jedi Master could feel the Force pulsating from deep within the core of the planet. There was something unique about this remote place, no matter how dreary and barren its outward appearance.

A check of the ship's sensors revealed no evidence of large cities or advanced technology. In fact, there was only one small cluster of subterranean life forms that registered at all. The little astromech twittered again and displayed the coordinates he had just received. Not surprisingly, they corresponded exactly with the lone area of inhabitants that the sensors had identified.

"Well, we might as well get this over with," Luke told his companion. "Just... Let's hope the natives are friendly."

With a mastery honed from many years of experience, Luke smoothly brought down the small snub-fighter to rest on the designated landing site. The transparisteel cockpit cover barely finished retracting before the Jedi Master had unbuckled his web harness, removed his helmet, and climbed out of the craft. Luke had opted to arrive in his Jedi uniform instead of his common orange flight suit. He distractedly smoothed down the creases that had crept into the heavy material of his dark tunic.

Stretching the stiff muscles of his back, he took a few steps onto the empty flight deck. Luke glanced around and was slightly perplexed when he found no welcoming party to greet him. In fact, there was no sign of life visible to him at all. Feeling neither threat nor danger through the Force, he allowed himself a few moments to investigate his surroundings.

The landing platform where he now stood was nothing more than a roughly hewn rock ledge that jetted off the side of a barren mountain of stone. Stepping to the edge, Luke cautiously peered over the precipice. He estimated that he was several hundred meters above the lifeless surface of the planet. He could see tall spires of jagged rock covering the terrain below him and stretching to the horizon in all directions. The air was crisp and clear, and he winced as a gust of icy updraft stung his eyes.

Backing away from the cliff, he looked up to view a deep violet haze covering a cloudless sky. Luke's jaw tightened, and he frowned in dismay as he was struck by an odd sense of déjà vu. He recognized this place. It was the same strange planet that he had seen in his recurring nightmares. A burst of staccato beeps and whirls brought Luke's attention back to the blue and white astromech still locked securely in his socket on the hull of the X-Wing.

"Stay with the ship, Artoo," Luke called up to the droid. The electronic chatter of Artoo's response sounded rather offended by the Jedi's quick dismissal.

"Yes, I know that you're more than a wing decoration," the amused pilot replied to the little droid's scathing comments. "I just have a feeling that this meeting won't take very long." Luke turned away from the ship. "If it takes place at all," he commented dryly under his breath.

Finally feeling a presence approaching through the Force, Luke looked back toward the mountain. With just the barest hint of a hydraulic whine, a massive panel of heavy stone sank back and slowly began rising to reveal an enormous arched entrance.

_Impressive—_was the first thought that came to the Jedi's mind.

A tall figure emerged from the blackness beyond the arch. Shrouded in a long, hooded cloak of midnight blue, the species of being that approached were quite unrecognizable. Luke moved back around the fighter to meet this newcomer midway on the platform.

Lowering the cowl of his cloak with long, elegant fingers, a blue-skinned Durosian gracefully bent his upper torso in a deep, perfunctory bow.

"Welcome, Grand Master Skywalker," the alien spoke in perfect Basic, with only a hint of his native accent. "I am B'Tak Katan of the Temporal Ward. I do hope you had a pleasant journey."

"Thank you," Luke replied graciously. "It was long, but uneventful."

"Please forgive the tardiness of my arrival," the sentient sounded contrite. "It is not often that we have guests come to our door."

Luke stiffened warily. "From your invitation, I was under the impression that you were requesting this meeting."

"Oh, yes, we were," the tall Durosian assured him, "and we appreciate your precipitous response to the urgency of our plea by coming here to Agnostos. I hope you will find our conversation both stimulating and informative." B'Tak extended the palms of his elongated hands. "Please accept our hospitality. May I offer you food or drink?"

"No, thank you, I'm fine." Luke appreciated the offer, but he was far more interested in the reasons that prompted this meeting and wanted to discover them quickly. He eyed the blue skinned creature intently. Although he could feel no malice or deceit within him, the tall Durosian radiated with guarded trepidation.

"I must admit," the Jedi Master commented with curiosity, "I have never heard of your _Temporal Ward_ before."

"I'm sure you have not," B'Tak supplied with a slight tilt of his bulbous head. "We have always been few in number, and we value our isolation piously. I believe you will soon understand our need for solitude."

"Are you all Durosian?"

"Our order is quite diverse," B'Tak responded. "I am the only member of my species."

"You are the leader of this sect?"

"No, I am but an emissary."

"Then will you be taking me to see your Master?" Luke folded his arms across his chest.

"Forgive my perceived impertinence, Master Jedi." B'Tak turned back to face the cave opening as if attuned to a silent message. "But that would be rather premature," he murmured, his voice becoming distant.

"And so it seems that I must rely upon you to enlighten me to the reason for my journey," the Jedi smiled disarmingly.

"Certainly." Seeming to snap out of a self-imposed trance, the Durosian turned his full attention back to the conversation.

"Do you mind if we walk, Master Jedi?" The corners of B'Tak's thin mouth pulled tight in what could be interpreted as a smile. "I rarely come to this level, and I do so enjoy the fresh air. I ask that you indulge me in this one small favor."

"That would be fine," Luke nodded.

The pair began to move away from the landing pad. The stone ledge narrowed considerably as it wound along the side of the mountain, but it was still wide enough for the two of them to walk comfortably abreast. Luke maintained the same slow, methodical pace as his Durosian companion.

"We are not all that different, Master Jedi_—_your Order and mine that is," B'Tak began. "The Jedi devote themselves to their pursuit toward a higher consciousness through guidance from the Force. Our Order does much the same, although we look to the temporal for direction. Both paths are intertwined."

"Yes, but interference with the natural timeline is considered a crime in this galaxy." Luke wasn't sure why he felt compelled to make the declaration. Possibly, he just wanted to be sure that this Temporal Ward representative understood exactly where the Jedi stood when it came to their duty to uphold galactic law, or maybe it was to reaffirm his own feelings on the subject.

"As well it should be," the Durosian glanced down at the blond man with pupilless orange eyes, "for the most part, anyway. The fellowship of the Temporal Ward has pledged ourselves to be but observers. We record the past, scrutinize the current, and foresee the future."

"Then you invited me all the way out here to inform me of your observations?"

"That would be rather unnecessary, would it not?" B'Tak chuckled. "Your Force already avails you with the ability to view what is to be. It is similar to the source we use to see the same. We both know what lies beyond the horizon. The difference is that we know that it is wrong."

Luke looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"

"The galaxy has its own destiny, just as those who dwell within it have their own destinies," the Durosian moved his elongated hands in fluid gestures, accentuating his points as he spoke. "All actions are interdependent on each other. What should happen_—_will always eventually happen—unless there has been a significant disruption of the_ 'natural timeline,'_ as you call it."

"Significant disruption?"

"Sometimes, there occurs a flaw—a misstep if you will," B'Tak explained. "An alteration to the linear progression of time will transpire that was never meant to be. Generally, when such an anomaly occurs, fate steps in and corrects its own path. But on rare occasions, consequences fester and grow to precipitate unfathomable results. Left alone long enough then any chance for natural recovery will be rendered unattainable."

"But, wouldn't a disruption large enough to cause such damage be noticed when it happened?" Luke inquired.

"Actually, it is quite the opposite," The Durosian countered. "The initial event would inevitably be entirely innocuous and inconsequential. Something as simple as the accidental crushing of a butterfly in a primordial jungle on a planet far beyond the Outer Rim could act as the trigger. That one unintended displacement in the natural order of time could begin a chain of subsequent events that, if left unhampered, could ultimately lead to the destruction of the galaxy."

"Your sect believes that something has crushed a butterfly?" Luke pondered aloud.

B'Tak nodded.

"How can you be so certain?"

"Yes, how best to explain?" The Durosian stopped and dropped his head in a long moment of consideration. He turned and raised his gaze toward the vista of stone spires spreading out toward the horizon. "May I tell you a legend, Master Jedi?" B'Tak asked, his voice again taking on a distant quality.

Luke nodded his assent. He was thoroughly intrigued by what evidence the Temporal Ward might have to support their claim.

"There is a legend of an ancient species," BTak began as they started walking along the ledge again. _"_They were a people so old that their mere existence has been forever lost to antiquity. Their beliefs and accomplishments can no longer be found in any hall of records, not even the famed Jedi archives before they were destroyed.

"While the rest of this galaxy was still in its infancy, this civilization thrived. They based their entire macrocosm on their unquenchable thirst for knowledge. In time, they achieved many of their pursuits. They eventually unlocked the mysteries of life, of time, of all reality. And with their vast stores of wisdom, they became the Guardians of the universe."

"What happened to them?" Luke asked, fascinated by the Durosian's story.

"I am sure that you have heard the common idiom that knowledge is power," B'Tak looked down at the Jedi.

"Of course," Luke acknowledged.

"Well sometimes, it is not power that is desired, only the knowledge itself," the Durosian countered. "Sadly, that belief turned into the Guardians ultimate failing. You see, possession of such all-encompassing wisdom can be seen as a threat by others. Fear creates enemies, and the Guardians garnered many such enemies. Eventually, their adversaries united, and together they plotted to take the knowledge maintained by the Guardians and use it for their own gain.

"The Guardians were wise enough to realize that the loss of such immense and powerful information was preferable to allowing others to wield it only to do harm. They chose their own extinction over defeat."

"They destroyed themselves?" Luke asked incredulously.

"Not completely," B'Tak shook his head slightly. "A few were chosen to survive. They were sent into hiding throughout the galaxy. Some exist even now."

"Immortals?"

"Nothing can live forever, my friend," B'Tak supplied thoughtfully, "not even the stars. No, they simply chose to live beyond the linear."

Luke stopped and turned to the tall alien as he began to put the puzzle pieces together. "Your Master is one of these Guardians?"

"Yes, he is." B'Tak followed up his answer with a deep bow of his head in deference to the Jedi's quick ability to come to his correct assumption.

"And he knows where to find this crushed butterfly?"

"Unfortunately, such a minuscule flaw in the network of time would be impossible to discern. However," the Durosian raised an elongated finger to accentuate his point, "even if one cannot find the beginning, it is possible to locate a fulcrum_—_a pivot point in the progression of events where the destiny of the galaxy can be adjusted before it is too late."

"And your Master has found such a pivot point," Luke supplied.

"He has."

"But_—_why inform me of this?" Though he could feel no warning through the Force, Luke's senses were heightened in anticipation of this conversation altering toward a dangerous path.

"Because this pivot point directly affects your family," B'Tak confessed.

"My family is dead," the Jedi snapped a hasty response. A bitter twinge of grief added to the ire of his words. Luke stepped away from B'Tak to look out at the arid landscape. He fell silent as he mulled over the underlying meaning of the Durosian's claim.

Slowly, a niggling thought began to eat away at the back of his mind. He turned back to B'Tak as his broken heart and unquenchable longing urged him to ask the unfathomable. "Are you telling me that my family was not supposed to die on that transport?"

"I am so sorry, Master Jedi." Great sadness seemed to fill the tall alien's voice. "In this currently skewed timeline, it was inevitable that your wife and son would meet their demise on Corellia."

Luke's shoulders sagged as if the heavy burden he continually carried in his soul instantly doubled in weight. He brought his hand to his face and rubbed over his eyes. "Then you have left me in confusion."

"In a sense, we all live in a state of confusion_—_even the Jedi," B'Tak answered cryptically. "However, there are a few beings in the galaxy that possess a unique ability that allows them the privilege of glimpsing into shards of enlightenment. When they disseminate what they have observed, their wisdom is often referred to as prophecy." The blue alien narrowed his pupilless orange eyes and looked intensely at the older man. "I'm sure you understand the importance of prophecy, Grand Master Jedi."

"Naturally," Luke answered.

"Then you are aware of the prophecy that involves your family?" B'Tak tilted his bulbous head, a wary smile creasing his thin lips.

"Are you referring to the prophecy of _The Chosen One_?"

The Durosian raised his head to the lavender sky as if recalling some unseen reference from the depths of his mind._ "A day will come when a 'Chosen One' shall rise from the dust. A vessel of the pure Force, they shall be. Look to them to vanquish the darkness and bring balance to the Force,"_ he quoted the ancient divination.

Luke warily considered the blue skinned alien. Although he had never found an existing transcript of the actual Jedi prophecy, he had been told of its content_—_including the belief by the Old Jedi Council that his father was to fulfill it. "That's the prophecy believed to be about my father," he stated cautiously.

"Yes, it is," B'Tak confirmed as he focused pupilless eyes on the Jedi Master. "But was the prophecy fulfilled?"

Taken aback by the question, Luke could only stare at the alien in deepening confusion. "What do you mean?"

"When your father sacrificed himself to kill the Emperor, it was thought that he achieved the destruction of the Sith Order, but had he truly brought balance to the Force?" B'Tak's question hung heavily in the crisp afternoon air as Luke contemplated its ramifications.

"You're saying he failed?" The Jedi Master frowned. He was not sure he cared for what the Durosian was implying.

"I'm saying that at the time that he made the attempt, there was no chance for success. It was already too late."

"Too much damage had already been done," Luke hypothesized, "the butterfly had been crushed for too long,"

B'Tak nodded.

Luke moved away and looked, unfocused, toward the horizon. "Your Master knows when the attempt should have been made."

B'Tak nodded again, a smile widening across his narrow face. He seemed immensely pleased at Luke's continual ability to decipher the enigmatic inferences of his words. "The Empire was never meant to rise from the ashes of the Republic, Grand Master. Nor was the Jedi Order ever doomed to face near extinction."

"What about my father?" Luke turned back to ask. "Are you telling me that he was never supposed to fall to the Dark Side?"

B'Tak dropped his gaze and stood silent for a long moment. "Of that circumstance, we are unclear," he confessed. He hesitated again before shaking his head and continuing. "Your father remains an enigma—even to us. All we can determine is that he was instrumental in the significant events that were never supposed to happen. If he had not stood by Palpatine's side, the Empire would never have usurped the Republic."

"So we are back to my original question," Luke stated tersely. "Why are you telling me any of this?"

"As I said before, our Order has sworn to be but observers," the Durosian explained. "We cannot directly interfere with the linear timeline, even though we realize it is flawed, even though we know all civilization is in great peril, even though we see the impending destruction of the galaxy if the situation is left unchallenged."

"But your prescribed convictions would not restrict you from recruiting someone else who _can_ become involved?" Luke dropped his arms and took another step away from the Durosian uneasily.

"Not specifically, no," B'Tak looked coyly at the Jedi. "But understand, if we would be in such a mind to recruit someone to take on such a perilous mission, that person would need to be both motivated to try—and tempered to succeed."

Luke stiffly turned back to face the Durosian. "I'm sure you realize that by even telling me this, you are forcing me to report your activities. As I noted earlier, time travel is the highest crime in the galaxy."

"A crime so grave that it is punishable by death." B'Tak nodded. "Our Order is not afraid to die when pursuing something in which we believe." The Durosian gave Luke a sidelong glance. "As I said, Master Skywalker, we are much like our Jedi brethren. Besides, losing our lives now rather than after a few years of chaos and war matters little in the overall scheme of the universe."

"You are claiming you have foreseen the destruction of the galaxy."

"We have foreseen the same destiny as you have," B'Tak spoke evenly.

"And your Master believes that what has been _'foreseen'_ can be avoided?"

"They are events that were never meant to take place in the first place," B'Tak huffed.

They both fell into a heavy silence. The ramifications of this meeting had become far more significant than the Jedi Master could have possibly imagined. Luke closed his eyes and struggled to take a deep breath despite the tightening in his chest.

"So," Luke mouth numbly. "If I am to believe what you are telling me, your Temporal Ward is offering a way to go back and change the past."

"Repair the present would be more accurate." The Durosian waved his arm in an all-encompassing gesture toward the distant horizon. Luke followed the alien's movements and looked vacantly out over the sea of rocky spires.

Luke could hear the urgent whispers in his mind from the observant Jedi whom he was sworn to be warning him to end this conversation and leave immediately before he violated galactic law any further. Simultaneously, the bereft father and grieving husband who barely clung to life inside the tattered remains of his heart was shouting out in protest—desperately willing to grasp onto even the slightest opportunity that could restore his lost family.

"What would I need to do?" The Jedi's voice was scarcely more than a whisper.

"That, we cannot tell you." B'Tak shrugged apologetically. "It would be in violation of our most sacred vows. Our only involvement will be to provide you passage—and to give you a foundation that can help you design your own path."

Luke stared, dumbfounded. He had not anticipated such an enigmatic answer. "Design my own path?" He asked the alien tentatively.

"It is my understanding that your Jedi Order teaches their initiates that they must study the errors of the past, so as not to repeat them. Could not that same approach bring insight into your quest as well?" B'Tak posed the cryptic question. "Identify your most pressing desires, question them, examine them, and then follow the trail of what you discover to lead you to the most satisfactory conclusions."

"That may be a little hard...I don't even know how to start." Luke returned.

"By now, I am sure that you have discovered that the vessel we sent to you houses more than our missive. Go back to your Temple, Master Jedi. Employ our offering well. It was created especially for you to provide the foundation on which to design your path and fulfill your destiny. Once you have gained the wisdom you need, return to us. Then, you will be ready to meet my Master."

_'~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~'_

B'Tak remained on the surface long enough to watch the afterglow from the small fighter's engine exhaust evaporate into the atmosphere. He had long admired the New Jedi Order's Grand Master by his reputation alone—but to have finally met him in person— To say the least Luke Skywalker had far exceeded all of his high expectations. He felt profoundly honored to have experienced the encounter.

Taking a slow settling breath, B'Tak turned and walked to the turbolift at the back of the gaping cavern. The long ride down into the bowels of the mountain gave him time to reflect on all that had transpired. Thankfully, his tempered nature would allow him to remain outwardly neutral when he gave his report. But privately, he was hopeful that the man who had so impressed him would accept that task that had been laid before him. B'Tak silently wondered how many other sentient beings around the galaxy would have the strength of spirit to face such a challenge. He doubted that the most in depth search would find anyone else willing to make the sacrifice.

As the lift door silently slid open, the Durosian stepped into the darkened chamber. A diminutive figure, dressed in similar midnight blue robes, stood next to the large crystal monolith erected in the middle of the room. When he reached the Temporal Ward's Guardian, B'Tak bowed reverently.

"I have done all that I can, Master Hatu," B'Tak professed softly. "He will either expose us, or he will take up the challenge."

The frail green creature closed his large blue eyes and inhaled deeply.

"Do it he will." Hatu averred in his gravely ancient voice. "Foreseen it...I have."


	6. Chapter 6 Dark Homecoming

**_A/N #1: _**_I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy._

**_A/N #2: _**_This story would not be what it is without the help of my supremely competent original beta reader, Deja Vu. Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated._

**_A/N #3: _**_This chapter was revised and re-posted in July 2013._

* * *

**Chapter 6 – Dark Homecoming**

_Death._

_Destruction._

_Despair._

_Eruptions of blossoming fireballs spread across a frozen, snow-covered battlefield. A curtain of shrapnel hurls with deadly velocity through a temperate, ancient forest. The incessant roar of laser cannons and the spit of blaster bolts reverberating across the galaxy as warriors and innocents fall to their deaths before the enveloping darkness._

_War._

_As voracious as a fearsome slathering beast that makes no distinction between the loyalties of the victims sacrificed before it, only thriving on the carnage that is created to sustain it..._

'~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~'

Luke was abruptly pulled from his unsettling meditation by a shrill alarm sounding from the control panel of his X-wing fighter. Taking a quick moment to re-orient himself, he realized it was a simple warning sensor indicating the imminent reversion into Realspace. The small one-man fighter shuddered as the hyperdrive disengaged and the long streaks of white that had encircled it transformed back into the specks of distant stars set against the velvety black of space.

He rubbed a gloved hand over his face to dispel the remnants of his visions that stubbornly clung to his mind. Despite his meditations being increasingly hindered by a seemingly thickening shroud of darkness, the ethereal snippets of insight that he could still manage to perceive showed him only disturbing imagery of carnage and destruction spread throughout the galaxy. Some of the scenes had seemed ominously familiar—but he knew better than to dismiss them as simply memories from his days in the rebellion.

And now, stepping back and examining his meditations in light of his visit to Agnostos, he had started to identify hairline cracks and minuscule ripples that were intricately woven into the fabric of the Force... Flaws and imperfections that he had never noticed before, but which nevertheless seemed wrong and troubling by their mere existence.

Luke shook his head. Was he possibly even entertaining the thought that the Temporal Ward's outlandish theory was correct? The idea that all that he knew of this galaxy was tainted, and wrong seemed impossible. Even more outlandish was the suggestion that there was a way to change the past and avert nearly fifty years of genocide and destruction. And even if the mysterious sect's offer was viable, to make such an attempt would be violating one of the most widely held and ancient laws of civilization.

The Jedi Master leaned heavily into the padded seat of his X-wing and exhaled a long, measured breath. He had spent most of his trip back to Coruscant contemplating the ramifications of his mysterious meeting with B'Tak Katan. The logical part of his brain was still trying to convince himself that he should never have made the journey in the first place. He was finding it rather uncomfortable that the little voice of warning in the back of his head had somehow started to sound exactly like his sister, Leia.

As a Jedi, he was bound by his sworn duty to the New Republic to report the Temporal Ward immediately. Their talk, as well as the sect's preliminary actions to contact him, had clearly broken the edict regarding interference or intended interference with the natural timeline. His path should have been clear, but it was not. By following a narrow view of the law, was he jeopardizing the continuing existence of the galaxy? His head spun every time he contemplated the problem.

What was he to do? For years, he had trusted the Force to direct him to follow what seemed a preordained destiny. But could he rely on that now? He had lost so much of his inner focus and faith after experiencing the tragic events on Corellia. His abysmal mishandling of his nephew's emotional breakdown had caused him to start second-guessing his interpretations of the Force's guidance ever since Jacen had stormed out of the Temple.

Was what he was viewing in his meditations the portents provided by the Force that he had relied on for years? Or was this barrage of continuing nightmares and dark imagery simply his subconscious mind searching for release from the tension and grief that had assaulted him for these past months? Was the Force trying to summon him to action, as it had beckoned him away from Tatooine, urged him to Dagobah, and sent him to Bespin? Or was he selfishly attempting to grasp B'Tak's offer as a way to fulfill his own fervent desire to bring back that which he had lost?

He felt utterly confounded. Maybe he was trying too hard to find answers. Maybe the answers were already there, prodding him to act, and it was entirely his own insecurities that were preventing him from doing so. True, he had once been a reckless, idealistic dreamer who would have jumped immediately at the opportunity presented to him by the Temporal Ward... But he was no longer that person. He had lived through too much pain, suffered too much loss—seen too many of his dreams shatter into dust.

He reflected morosely on the people he had lost over the years, many at the expense of the Empire: his Aunt and Uncle, Biggs, Dack, and the countless pilots that had flown under his command. Then, of course, there was Ben Kenobi. He hadn't known him for very long in life, but the old wryly Jedi had remained a guiding influence for many years after his death. Luke tentatively wished that his first Master would come to him now, like he used to, offering his sage advice. But he had not felt his presence for decades. He imagined that Ben and Master Yoda had both finally let their conscious selves go to become one with the Force.

Luke continued to reflect on his most recent loss, his family: Mara, Ben, and Leia's children... All of them were gone, senselessly. Their deaths apparently directly related to a series of events that—according to the Temporal Ward—were never supposed to happen.

He idly wondered how the flaw B'Tak had spoken about would have affected him at the beginning of his own life. Would a change in the timeline have meant that he would have grown up with parents instead of guardians? Would he have had the opportunity to be raised and even trained by his father? Would he have known his mother?

Along that same train of thought, he wondered how it would have been growing up with a sister. From the time he and Leia had originally met, they had always worked well together—and shared a close relationship. But they were both intensely strong individuals. What would it have been like to go through the constant vying for attention, the inevitable sibling rivalry, the limitless opportunities for tormenting and teasing? He smiled at the thought. With his youthful penchant for mischief and recklessness and Leia's aptitude for monumental bouts of temper, it certainly would have been… Interesting.

Luke shook his head to clear his fanciful musings. They were no more than daydreams. It could never happen, and he probably shouldn't even be entertaining these thoughts.

For most of his life, Luke had put his duty to others before personal desires. Those unquestionable ethics had first been taught to him by his stalwart Uncle, and then laced into his very being by all that he had discovered as he endeavored to become a Jedi Master. A sense of selflessness had been instilled within him far before had ever understood the true cost. The idea of going back in time was merely a fantasy. It could be nothing more. And he did not have the luxury to dwell on the dream any longer.

Luke straightened in his seat as he resigned himself to the decision of what he must do. Once he arrived back at the Temple, he would give a full disclosure of his trip to Agnostos at the next Council meeting. He already knew in what direction that action would inevitably lead. The activities of the Temporal Ward would be reported to the appropriate authorities of the New Republic. The members of that sect would be brought to justice. The law of the galaxy would be preserved. He, alone, would be left with the hollow feeling of aspirations that could never be fulfilled and unattainable illusions based on a far-reaching list of _what ifs_.

A blast of electronic beeps accompanied a written inquiry that scrolled across the cockpit display. Apparently, even Artoo was worried about him.

"I'm fine, Artoo," he assured his mechanical friend. "Let's go home."

'~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~'

Luke guided his X-wing to a smooth landing in the middle of the immense Jedi Temple docking bay. The hangar was quiet, with only a few droids attending to their duties. It was far too early in the day for there to be much more activity than this. Luke noticed a lone figure standing passively at the front of the main doors leading into the Temple as he landed his ship; he recognized the man instantly.

Arms behind his back, his traditional Jedi robes ruffling slightly in the wind caused by the backwash of the fighter's turbine engines, Master Durron stood with his face set in an all-too-common look of grim determination. Knowing that Artoo would finish the landing sequence and cycle down the engines, Luke hopped out of his fighter and walked over to his long-time friend.

Luke scrutinized the Deyerian's appearance as he approached. Kyp's long, dark hair tied neatly behind his head was accented by strands of glistening silver. Small creases were etched into the skin around his eyes and mouth. His once-insatiable brown eyes seemed to have dulled after spending too many years opposing the darkness and fighting for the innocents who were unable to defend themselves.

_Force,_ Luke thought silently, they were all getting too old to try to save the galaxy again.

"How was your trip?" Kyp asked pleasantly. The innocent question seemed oddly inappropriate.

"What happened?" Luke inquired when he had reached his friend.

"What?" A quirk of a smile broke the serious features of his close confidant, although it did not reach the man's eyes. "I can't just come here to greet a fellow friend and Master?"

"You could be," Luke acknowledged, "but you didn't. What's going on?"

Kyp dropped his head. His serious tone returned. "I'm here to escort you to the Council chambers. There is an emergency meeting."

"It's barely 0500 hours." Luke was stunned.

"This couldn't wait."

Both men turned and entered the Temple. They began walking to the turbolift that would take them up the tallest spire to the Council room.

Luke kept his eyes focused forward. "So, are you going to give me a heads-up on what this is about or are you just planning to let me be blindsided by the Council?"

"I take it you haven't heard any reports over the Holonet lately," Kyp gave the Grand Master a sidelong glance.

"I've been a bit out of touch," Luke returned.

Both men stopped when they reached the main vestibule. Kyp touched his hand to a small panel next to a large ornate door carved from dark Kriin-wood. It silently slid open to reveal the turbolift pod within. They stepped inside in unison. The door barely had time to close before the pod began to rise.

"Brilar was attacked two days ago," Kyp said flatly.

The possible ramifications of his friend's words vibrated through the Grand Master. Luke instantly reached out to the control panel. The lift stopped its progression with a shudder. He turned and faced the taller man. "How bad?"

"Their three largest cities were completely razed," Kyp's voice was tense. "The planetary government—and I use that term lightly—was annihilated. And we just received intelligence last night that the entire royal family has been executed."

Luke felt a wave of vertigo as he stood in the unmoving turbo. Another nightmare was unfolding before him. "Any leads on who is responsible?"

"No, not yet, Kyp confessed. "An anonymous fleet of ships appeared out of nowhere. They overwhelmed the planetary defense systems within two standard hours. The Brilarians barely had time to send a message to their senate representative," Kyp exhaled heavily. "In retrospect, it probably would have been better if they hadn't."

"What do you mean?"

"Representative Konax has gotten the idea into his head that the massacre was in retribution to the incident on Corellia." Kyp dropped his head and looked away. "He is claiming that the Jedi are behind the entire attack. He even proposed a resolution during the last open session of the Senate to disband the Jedi Order."

"That's ridiculous," Luke scoffed.

"Of course it is," the other man growled in agreement. "Don't worry. Supreme Chancellor Solo has been doing a remarkable job of containing the situation."

"She shouldn't have to be dealing with this now," Luke frowned. "Considering her worry over Jacen's whereabouts and how much time she must spend caring for Han—the last thing Leia can afford is to have a conflict like this between the Senate and the Jedi placed on her shoulders."

"It appears that she is handling the pressure as well as can be expected," Kyp tried to reassure him. Apparently taking a moment to gather his resolve, he reached out and grabbed Luke's arm. "There's more..."

Luke stared up at the dark-haired man with growing dread.

"We intercepted an encrypted holographic recording yesterday that was intended to be delivered directly to the Brilarian consulate and the personal offices of the Supreme Chancellor. It came from a group calling themselves the Iron Fist. In effect, it was a declaration claiming responsibility for the attack and expressing their intention to commit further incursions with the goal of usurping control of the New Republic. Master Hamner is checking on the authenticity of the message and validity of this previously unknown terrorist organization even now. Once he has compiled his findings, he is planning to report them immediately to the Council."

"What are you not telling me?"

"The Sith have finally revealed themselves," Kyp's expression hardened. "The transmission was made by a human calling himself Darth Caedus."

Luke lowered his head and tightly shut his eyes. He wavered unsteadily as he reached out to the Force for strength. "Well," the Jedi Master's voice broke with emotion, "it's not as though we had not expected some type of open proclamation."

"Luke, it's worse than you can possibly imagine," Kyp's voice dropped to a near whisper. He turned away and faced the turbo lift door, unable to look at his friend any longer. "The Sith Lord in the hologram... It's Jacen."


	7. Chapter 7 Late Night Conundrum

**A/N #1: **_I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy. _

**A/N #2:** _This story would not be what it is without the help of my supremely competent original beta reader, Deja Vu. Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated._

**A/N #3: **_I feel that I need to give a massive nod of thanks and acknowledge all of the excellent information that is contained on the Wookieepedia website. This chapter could not have been written without it. That being said, you may note a few discrepancies with __established EU_ _dogma. I know that they are there, but they are necessary and critical to the progression of this particular story. Please, no flames.  
_**  
** **A/N #4: **_This chapter was revised and re-posted in July 2013._

* * *

**Chapter 7 – Late Night Conundrum **

Deep within the bowels of the ancient Temple, Luke Skywalker sat alone in a secluded corner of the Jedi Archives. He had retreated here immediately following the end of a most grueling Council session. So mired in his own thoughts, he had not even noticed when the last few members of the evening work crews had trickled out for the night.

Since the Jedi returned to the Temple, Luke had rarely managed to squeeze more than a few minutes out of his busy schedule to come down to these Archives. Master Gnosi, the current Jedi historian, had seemed to have matters well in hand. Even the droids and Padawans who labored to repair and restore the information that had once been housed here had needed little daily supervision. But over the past several months, he had discovered an odd sense of comfort when sitting among the empty shelves, disheveled piles of damaged datapads and holocubes, and stacks of abandoned crates lying about the cavernous chamber. The shambled condition of the once-great Jedi Archives eerily reminded him of the overwhelming disarray that currently plagued his own life.

With such morose thoughts crossing his addled mind, the exhausted Jedi Master sank back heavily into the thickly cushioned leather chair and drew a long, measured breath. Resting his elbows on padded armrests, he dropped his face into his hands and rubbed his bleary, red eyes.

_Twenty-eight standard hours... _To the best of Luke's recollection, it had been twenty-eight hours since he had received anything that could vaguely be classified as actual sleep. And since that had happened as he was cramped in the cockpit of his X-wing fighter while returning from Agnostos—it hadn't been tremendously rejuvenating. Besides, the myriad questions and unsettling scenarios arising from his conversation with B'Tak Katan had kept his mind too perplexed for most of the trip to obtain the rest he so desperately needed.

When he had come back to the Temple, Luke had meant to go straight to his apartment, grab a quick shower and a few hours of sleep, and then convene the Council to present a full report of his encounter with the Temporal Ward. So much for his best laid plans. That was over seventeen hours ago. He had yet even to make it back to his own quarters.

Everything had changed when Kyp escorted him to the Council chambers. Luke quickly realized that the outlawed activities of the Temporal Ward were trivial compared to the severity of the atrocities unleashed against the Brilarians.

Closing his eyes, Luke was bombarded with remembered words and visions from the day's proceedings. Each incoming transmission had brought darker news than the last. Casualty lists had grown longer by the hour, and neighboring worlds became quickly overwhelmed by the influx of injured refugees. The worst memory by far was watching the Holo transmission that the Jedi had intercepted. Tendrils of dread had coiled and tightened around Luke's chest a he viewed the recorded gruesome execution of the royal family and listened to the delusional rants coming from the now-unveiled Sith Lord.

But when the focus of the transmission had changed perspective, and the image of his nephew had been revealed... To see Jacen's scarred face twisted in wrathful anger—his eyes glowing Sithly yellow—that had been the greatest blow to his heart. As he watched, the newly ascended Darth Caedus spew his vile rhetoric and ominous threats against both the Jedi and the New Republic, Luke had believed for a moment that he had lost the capacity to breathe.

How could the innocent babe whom he had once held just moments after his birth have turned into a creature of malice and evil? How could the chubby, wide-eyed toddler who had scarcely been able to control his desire to learn about the galaxy around him have now turned his thoughts only inward? How could the young Jedi who had spent years under Luke's patient tutelage now be set to destroy everything he had once sworn to uphold?

Unable to find those answers, Luke had only been able to conclude that he had failed Jacen completely. He should have recognized what was happening before the situation had gotten so out of hand. Tried to counsel the boy, help defuse the rising emotional anguish that tormented his young nephew. If nothing else, he should have stopped Jacen from leaving the Temple—by force if necessary...

Instead, Luke had been too focused on his own grief. So blinded by personal loss, he had neglected the signs of his nephew's vulnerability along with apparently also overlooking the equivocal source of the rising danger in the galaxy. His own ineptitude had been instrumental in losing Jacen to the Dark Side, and he had probably compromised the future of the New Republic, as well.

_What had he done?_

Since he had first discovered the Force, Luke had only wanted to be a Jedi. He had devoted most of his life to living up to their lofty ideals. Following Master Yoda's dying request, Luke had tried to pass his knowledge of the Jedi to others and help to rebuild what was lost. But there was still so much, he freely admitted, he did not know.

From ancient time until less than fifty years ago, Initiates and Padawans had spent decades devoting themselves to the rigors of training and apprenticeship before they had ever attained the `title of Jedi Knight—learning invaluable lessons under the guidance of experienced instructors. He had fervently longed to do the same. According to what B'Tak Katan had claimed, he should have had that opportunity. If the purges had never had happened—if the Jedi, along with the old Republic, had never fallen…

Luke startled and forced himself to pull away from his dangerous reverie. He should not let his thoughts drift to his discussion with the Durosian on Agnostos—even unintentionally. Now was not the time to dwell on the Temporal Ward's beliefs, nor their enticing offer. With a heavy sigh, he once again dropped his head into his hands.

_Twenty-eight hours were far too long to go without sleep..._

Taking a deep breath, he raised his head, and focused his eyes on the overflowing stacks of flimsies and datapads that covered the table in front of him. Luke acknowledged that he would not get the rest he so desperately required if he did not get back to work. He had allowed his mind to wander for far too long already.

He needed to gain insight into how best to confront the imminent Sith threat. Though the Archives were but a shade of their former glory, they still contained the greatest single collection of historical and tactical information regarding the secretive Sith Order and their methods of warfare. He had lost his focus while reading official battle reports submitted by Jedi serving in the field during the Clone Wars. However, he was sure that even that data was sketchy and incomplete. _It didn't seem right,_ Luke mused.

Once considered one of the defining accomplishments of the old Jedi Order, the Archives had housed the largest collection of star maps in existence and contained statistical information on almost all species of flora and fauna inhabiting the known regions of the galaxy. It stored the complete recorded history of countless worlds going back millennia.

Luke had first learned of this jewel of the Temple during his time with Master Yoda. He could still remember the long Dagobah nights spent sitting by the campfire and listening, entranced to the aged Master's tales of a more civilized time. Despite his adamant stance against attachment, the ancient Jedi Master had seemed to carry the loss of archival knowledge as a physical wound. At Yoda's passing, Luke had made a silent vow to restore the archive in the late Jedi Master's honor. That promise had been one of the many factors in Luke's decision to relocate from Yavin IV and bring the Jedi back home to Coruscant.

Soon after the relocation was complete, he had made the restoration of the Archives one of the Order's top priorities. The first several years were spent repairing the core computer's inventory system so that a catalog could be retrieved. When that was done, Luke had almost wished they had not made the effort. To see a listing of all that had been lost seemed far worse than to view the empty walls and broken shelving.

It seemed so terribly wrong that so much had been lost to the Galaxy with the rise of the Empire—_an Empire that never should have come to power in the first place..._

The Jedi Master groaned under his breath as he caught himself thinking once again about what had been discussed on Agnostos. He needed to be concentrating on the here and now rather than concerning himself with events that should not be changed—_even if they were wrong_…

Luke felt a soft vibration against his hip as his comlink began to chime. He numbly fumbled for the device and activated it. His heart sank even lower as the small blue image of his sister materialized above the device. She was still wearing the elaborate robes of her station. Her schooled facial features belied the underlying tension and stress she was undoubtedly feeling. From the transmission code, it was apparent that she was contacting him from her office. Knowing her as well as he did, Luke was sure that she was stubbornly resisting her aides' advice to take some time to care for her own personal needs.

"Hi, Leia," Luke feigned a polite smile toward the small holo image.

"Luke, I'm glad to see that you have finally come back." Leia's concern was evident in the rush of her words. "How was your trip?"

"Long," he answered evasively.

"When the reports first came in from Brilar, and I wasn't able to reach you—I was so worried..."

"I'm sorry, Leia," he apologized. Luke paused for a moment as he searched for the words that would hopefully reassure her. "I probably should have contacted you when I got back, but I was tied up with the Council. We spent the day monitoring the situation on Brilar. We have already deployed a team of forensic experts to the system. They are in the midst of conducting a thorough investigation."

"Thank you, Luke," she smiled tightly. "I know that you and the Jedi will be doing your utmost to defuse this terrible crisis. I personally plan to make sure that the New Republic will stand by you so that we all can protect and maintain peace and democracy."

Luke cringed as he listened to his sister's skillful rhetoric. He begrudgingly admitted that she had needed to rely on her ingrained political fortitude, and uncompromising beliefs for so long that her responses had nearly become robotic; he doubted that she could reply any differently when confronted with such critical developments—even to him.

"Nevertheless, I'm not contacting you about the situation on Brilar," she continued.

"Oh?" He quizzically peered at her flickering image.

"I actually called to invite you to dinner." Leia's features softened at once as a small smile broke over her face.

He shook his head dismissively. "Leia, I can't get away—"

"Please, Luke," she beckoned. "We haven't spent an evening together for—well, for months."

"I know, but I can't leave the Temple—not right now."

"I really need to see you, Luke," she softly implored. "So does Han."

Even through the small, distorted image of the holo transmission, Luke could feel the heartfelt depth of her plea. He dropped his head, knowing that he couldn't refuse her. "When?"

"Tomorrow night, 1800 hours?" A look of smug satisfaction clearly registered on the miniaturized representation of her face. "I'll have Threepio prepare that peculiar recipe for bantha stew that you found embedded in one of those encrypted memory nodes of his. I'm not sure why, but I know how much you like it."

"You know I can't refuse an offer like that," he replied. The smile that adorned his face was an honest one this time. "I'll be there."

Luke watched as Leia's blue image flickered off before returning the comlink to his belt. He exhaled deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose in mounting dread. He miserably wondered what he could say to Han and Leia about Jacen. How could he tell them what had happened to their son without his mere explanation destroying them in the process?

He had less than twenty hours to figure out a way to do it. Twenty hours minus whatever time he managed to chisel out of that schedule for some long over-due sleep.

Before the Jedi Master could stew any further, he heard the muffled sound of slippered feet shuffling quietly across the tile floor. Luke looked up to see Master Cilghal emerge from around an empty bookcase and walk slowly toward him carrying a small tray between her webbed hands. The low light from the lamp sitting at the edge the table next to him reflected in her large watery eyes and made apparent the expression of deep concern she bore on her aquatic features.

"I was hoping that I would not find you down here," the Mon Calamari admonished with a gentle voice. "Although I must say, I knew better than to assume that you were actually taking care of yourself." She stopped when she reached the table and stretched her arms forward. "I thought you might be hungry."

"Don't tell me that Kyp sent you down here to check up on me?" The Grand Master asked warily.

"He may have suggested that it would be a good idea." Cilghal's broad face took on a look of amusement. "But he certainly wasn't alone in his concern."

Luke leaned back against the leather chair and inhaled deeply. He mentally reached out and grasped a tendril of the Force to dispel his fatigue.

"I'm fine, you know," he complained. "I don't know why everyone in this Temple insists on constantly hovering over me."

"With all that has happened over the last few days—months, actually," the Jedi Master corrected herself, "and all that will soon come to pass, I doubt that there is anyone residing here in the Temple right now who is truly fine—especially you."

"Is that your professional opinion, Healer Cilghal?"

"Possibly," she smiled coyly, "or it just might be the thoughts of a concerned friend."

He dropped his gaze to peruse the tray. It carried a plate covered with an assortment of fresh fruits and vegetables placed next to a basket of hard crusty rolls. How long had it been since he had eaten anything? He couldn't even remember. He also noted there was a pot of steaming tea and two cups. From the aroma, he recognized it as H'Kak bean tea—his favorite. He wondered if she had sent directly to Tatooine for a special blend. He wouldn't be surprised if she had.

"Will you join me?" He asked mildly as he combined several stacks of datapads to make room for the tray on the table.

"I'd be delighted," she answered.

'~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~'

After setting down the tray, Cilghal moved to the rear wall and retrieved a hard-backed chair that was placed there. She glided it silently over the tile to bring it up to the opposite side of the table. She gracefully sat and gave the weary Grand Master a scrutinizing glare. As she expected, Luke was pointedly ignoring her visual inspection. He picked up the pot and poured the steaming orange-colored liquid into each cup.

"May I ask why you decided to come down here?" Cilghal inquired as she glanced at the datapads and flimsies that covered the table. Her large forehead wrinkled slightly in consternation. "What are you looking for?"

"I'm not exactly sure," he confessed. "I only hope that I'll recognize it when I find it."

She cocked her head and peered more intently at one of the activated datapads. The Healer frowned as she realized it displayed the Jedi's official deployment roster from the battle of Praesitlyn. Cilghal idly wondered how thoroughly the Grand Master had reviewed the list. If he had examined it closely, he would have found her name among the other medics and healers who had been assigned to one of the field hospitals. She dropped her head, and her large glassy eyes dimmed as she thought back to that campaign.

It had been horrible. Over a million mindless battledroids programmed only to destroy. They had caused the senseless deaths of tens of thousands of sentients. She shuddered. Her vivid memories of the carnage and suffering as a result of the prolonged fighting would remain with her for the rest of her life.

She had been one of the few Jedi who had managed to survived the Purges. Although technically only a Padawan learner, she had still served in the healing corps throughout the Clone Wars. She had treated many of the wounded, not just Jedi brethren and clones, but also a countless number of civilians who had been caught in the crossfire. Only the fact that she had been alone, with no clone escort, providing relief supplies to a refugee camp had saved her from being killed during the initial wave of executions brought on by Order 66. When the locals had realized what was happening, they had hidden her. After she had become aware of the full extent of what had taken place, she had silently slipped into anonymity. She had destroyed her lightsaber, concealed her Force presence, and concentrated on simply surviving the madness unleashed throughout the galaxy. For many years, she had waited and hoped that the Force would show her what she needed to do, and finally it had.

Relying on her healing skills, she had joined the first cell of rebels she could find. Still keeping her true identity hidden from those around her, she had worked as a medic on a myriad of rebel bases for years. It wasn't until the fall of the Empire that she had revealed her true identity. Luke had been dumbfounded to discover that the healer who had treated him countless times for everything from broken bones to plasma burns had once been a Jedi from the old era. When she had told him the truth, he said that he felt like kissing her, and then—in fact—he had.

They had grown close throughout the ensuing years. She had been invaluable in providing him with information regarding the old Order. She had explained all the rigid teachings of the old ways that she could remember along with the Order's strict adherence to the ancient Jedi Codes and tenants. She had also been both tolerant and supportive as to how Luke had taken that information and molded it into his own vision for a New Order.

_It was for the best_, she had told him. The old ways had apparently blinded the Jedi to the threat of the Sith. Though she had experienced exceedingly little contact with the Jedi Council at the time, she was sure that their lack of foresight was partially responsible for the destruction of the Republic—just as much as the graft and corruption that had festered and seeped into all corners of the government.

"Be cautious when looking for a new direction for the future, Luke," she warned. "The past doesn't always hold the best answers."

The Grand Master stiffened at her words. "I have to start somewhere."

"History is what it is. It can never be changed...No matter how much we may wish that it could be."

"I need to understand the enemy we are about to face," Luke countered. "Since the Clone Wars are the most recent encounter of open warfare with the Sith, I was hoping to gain some insight."

Cilghal frowned, perplexed. Luke seemed oddly uncomfortable about her offered comments. "Luke, you already have more personal knowledge of how to combat their evil than what you are attempting to glean from these dusty old records," she argued. "You confronted not one Sith Lord but two, and you were able to walk away from the encounter. No other living Jedi can make that claim."

"It's not the same." He shook his head in disagreement. "When I faced the Emperor, it wasn't in actual battle. His intent was to turn me to the Dark Side. He nearly did."

"He may have tried, but he did not succeed!" Cilghal shook her head resolutely.

"No, he didn't," Luke acknowledged. "I might have won a moral victory, but it still nearly killed me. If my father had not turned back to the light and destroyed them both, the outcome would have been quite different."

The two Masters fell into a comforting silence as they each enjoyed the other's company. Sipping their tea and nibbling from the diminishing plate of food, they each reflected on personal memories from a darker time. Unable to conceal the distraction clearly apparent in the Mon Calamari's expression, Luke had easily followed her focus as she kept glancing over to the activated datapad detailing the command roster from the Praesitlyn campaign. As she expected, he had evidently seen her name on the list. However, she imagined that it was the third name from the bottom of the roster that had truly caught Luke's attention. Also, only listed as a Padawan, it would have been one of the only references he could have found of the young man that was left in the Archives.

"You knew him, didn't you?" Luke's question broke the silence. There was no need to identify to whom he was referring. The presence of Luke's father loomed heavily over them both.

In all the many years of their friendship, the subject of Anakin Skywalker had rarely been breached. When it was, it was only in reference to the prophecy of the Chosen One and how the Jedi Council had believed that it was Anakin who was destined to fulfill it.

Cilghal dropped her large bulbous head in contemplation. "I only met him twice."

"Will you tell me about him, please?"

She looked up into the humble blue eyes of the Jedi Master beside her. She could still remember when she had first seen them in the youthful face of an idealistic dreamer; now, they were solemnly set in the mature expression of her superior. Yet she could also remember seeing similar eyes many years before. Then, they had intensely gazed at her from the face of the passionate young man who was to become Luke's father. _How could I not tell him what I know?_ She silently thought to herself. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat.

"I believe he was around ten years old the first time I met him. He had not been at the Temple for more than a year, and he was not adjusting remarkably well," she began.

"I thought that Force-sensitive younglings were brought to the Temple when they were infants?"

"Yes, that was the traditional way for admission," she explained. "But your father was not discovered until he was already nine. The entire Order was aware that the Council had initially rejected his training. It was generally assumed that only because of prophecy and the dying wish of a fallen Master that their decision was eventually overturned and your father was allowed to join the Order. The special treatment that Anakin received from the Council did not aid in his acceptance or make him popular among his peers."

"I take it that it was due to an event stemming from his tenuous situation that caused your encounter?" Luke deducted.

"He had engaged in an altercation with a group of older initiates. Over what, he would not say. Unable to control his emotions, he had fallen back to a—rather uncivilized method to confront them. It did not go well. And to make matters worse, he was subjected to rather awkward treatment session by a decidedly young and nervous Padawan healer."

"I'm sure he was in very good hands," he smiled warmly.

"He survived," she nodded, amused. The Mon Calamarian Master then looked away, and her large eyes became fogged and distant. Her second memory concerning the young Jedi was far more dreadful to recall…

"The next time I saw him was during the aftermath of Jabiim." Cilghal's voice had dropped to barely more than a whisper. "It had been a horrible battle that occurred midway through the war—a terrible defeat for the Republic. The campaign had lasted over forty days before it thoroughly deteriorated into disaster, and it had cost hundreds of thousands of lives in the process. It was believed at the time that Anakin had been the lone Jedi to survive and leave the planet alive. And that was only due to his being ordered away from the front by the Supreme Chancellor and re-assigned to lead the evacuation of clone forces. He was only twenty, I believe. Despite the fact that he was still a Padawan, he ended up being the highest ranking officer in the field. And so, he was placed into his first command."

"Were you there?" Luke asked.

The Mon Calamari shook her bulbous head. "No, I was stationed on the medical ship that received the retreating troops."

"He was injured?"

"Physically—only slightly—but emotionally…" she paused, haunted by the memory. "He was not only distraught over his Master's presumed death, but he was also struggling with the tremendous burden of guilt caused by the evacuation itself."

"What do you mean?"

"Unfortunately, the transports that had been sent to evacuate the planet were too few. Anakin was forced to make the decision to flee with only the clones and leave the native freedom fighters behind. It cost most of them their lives."

Cilghal was sure that Luke had found no records of such a battle while searching the Archives. The few times that she had volunteered to help with the restoration efforts; she had surprisingly discovered that most of the files regarding Anakin Skywalker or the 501 Legion had been wiped clean. She glanced over toward the Grand Master who was avidly listening while leaning forward with his chin resting in his hand.

"The horrors of war can do terrible things to a person," she continued, "especially if they hold their pain inside. When I first examined your father, he was near catatonic. Within a week, he was raging about his need to be sent back to the front lines. Against my strongest recommendations, the Council chose to assign him a new Master and re-deploy them both to the front. I was not surprised at all when I read a report a few months later that stated Anakin had blatantly disobeyed orders and gone AWOL."

"Do you know what happened?" Luke asked.

"Actually, I do," she said. "Despite the Council's belief that General Kenobi had died on Jabiim, your father never accepted it. He went to Ratikak where he found and rescued his Master from a dark apprentice of Count Dooku's, the prominent Sith Lord during the Clone Wars. Instead of receiving a reprimand for his actions, the Jedi Council chose to bestow Knighthood on your father. He was the 'Chosen One,' after all." Cilghal could not hold back her slight bitterness that clearly tinged her voice.

'~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~'

Luke leaned back in his chair. He had been wholly engrossed by the Mon Calamari's recollection. This was the first glimpse he had ever received about the young Jedi who had fathered him from anyone other than old Ben or Master Yoda. In the few moments that it had taken to have this conversation, a mystery from his own past had finally been explained.

_It made sense, now,_ Luke thought. He remembered the dismal planet of Jabiim. He had traveled there on a mission with the Alliance soon after the battle of Yavin IV. For no reason that he could fathom at the time, the Jabiimi people had been incensed at him after he told them whom he was. _No wonder_, he thought. They would have believed that his father had betrayed and abandoned their people years ago.

He also now understood why there had been such a harsh reaction from the Empire to their staged revolt. Darth Vader had ordered the complete devastation of the planet and annihilation of its population, no doubt trying to erase any memory of a past failure in an abandoned life. He wouldn't put it past Vader to have probably also been responsible for the destruction of all the records of the battle that had once resided in the old Archives.

The sound of Cilghal's deep exhalation returned him from his reverie.

"Luke, just because you share blood does not mean that your entire family line is doomed to the same fate," she intoned earnestly. "Take you, for example. You faced a similar trial, and you were still able to withstand the pull of evil."

"I'm not sure what you mean?" He asked stiffly.

"No one can say why a Jedi falls to the Dark Side," she said. "It would be so much easier if the cause could be identified as a simple mental defect or a disease that could be diagnosed and cured. Just because your father—and now Jacen—have both succumbed to this failing, does not signify that the rest of the Skywalkers will do so as well."

" I don't think there is a need to worry about that, my friend," Luke said solemnly. "In a few years, it looks like there won't be any Skywalkers left."


	8. Chapter 8 Butterfly Dreams

**_A/N #1: _**_I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy. _

**_A/N #2: _**_This story would not be what it is without the help of my supremely competent original beta reader, Deja Vu. Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated._

**_A/N #3: _**_Anonymous reviewer, **Darth Ebon**, was kind enough to point out the discrepancies between my version of the Cilghal character and how she appears in the EU. First of all, thank you for your review. Second, yes, I am aware of the differences, but they are necessary for the development of this plot-line. Although I did mention at the start of the first chapter that this would happen to some of the EU characters who appear in the story, I will try to make sure to add a reminder in my notes when a similar situation comes up again._

**_A/N #4: _**_This chapter was revised and re-posted as of July 2013._

* * *

**Chapter 8 – Butterfly Dreams**

_The sand was already warm beneath his back, but not intolerable—not yet. It was still early. Tattoo II had barely crested the distant ridge that delineated the edge of the Jundland Wastes._

_He let his mind wander to the upcoming Boonta Eve festival as his fingers worked nimbly to finish his repair on the ancient vaporator. Uncle Owen had told him that all the units along the homestead ring needed to be recalibrated and back in production before he would allow him to attend the swoop bike races in Anchorhead this weekend. He had hoped to get a head start on the job and finish with this vaporator before it was time to leave for school. He wasn't too worried about making the deadline. He knew he could get the recalibration on the six units completed over the next two days. He was always good at fixing things._

_"Luke!"_

_He heard the familiar call wafting to him from across the sands._

_"I'm here, Aunt Beru." He finished connecting the last components and heard the welcome sound of the repaired machine once again returning to life. Closing the access panel, he shimmied out from under the rusty vaporator and stood up. Dusting the excess sand out of his disheveled hair and rumpled white desert garb, he started over to the entry stairs of the subterranean homestead and to the awaiting figure of his aunt. Her stern posture and desert-worn features reflected the fortitude that was essential to survive the harsh life on a moisture farm, yet her soft smile and calm eyes betrayed the warm heart held within her gentle soul._

_"You have to hurry, Luke," his aunt insisted, "while there's still time."_

_"Don't worry." He smiled at the older woman disarmingly as he took his well-worn haversack from her. "I'll make it."_

_"Are you ready for your test?"_

_He pressed his lips into a thin line as his brow furrowed. "Test?" He couldn't even remember his current assignments. How could he possibly be prepared for a test? He silently berated himself for not paying closer attention._

_Seeing his reaction, his aunt tipped her chin and looked up at him a bit more sternly than was her usual wont, though the gentle hand she placed on his chest simply reflected her love for him. "Trust what's in your heart, Luke," she intoned softly. "You already know the right thing to do. We are all counting on you." She patted his chest lightly as her smile returned. "Now, you better hurry."_

_He grinned broadly at her sage advice and nodded. Leaning forward to deliver a chaste kiss to her cheek, he turned and trotted to the garage that housed the family's battered landspeeder. Checking his wrist Chrono, he noted that he barely would have enough time to make it before the first class began._

_He stumbled as he crossed the threshold. His world seemed to tilt off kilter. He stopped, wincing and slamming his eyes shut as an unexpected blast of scorching air assaulted him. Tentatively, he opened his eyes again and let the sack he held fall to the floor, forgotten. He froze, mesmerized, watching in horror as red shadows of flames danced along the walls of the corridor in which he stood, their images reflected through swirling clouds of thickening smoke that billowed from the large chamber no more than fifteen meters beyond. All around, he could hear shouts of chaos, screams of pain, and—wait, was that blaster fire?_

_He felt numb and disoriented. He was not standing in the cluttered family garage as he had been expecting; he was obviously no longer anywhere near the familiar Lars' homestead. In fact, he didn't believe he was on Tatooine at all. He also knew beyond all certainty that he was no longer the youthful teen that had lain under an aged vaporator just moments ago. Though he still wasn't sure whom he was, nor where, he could feel that it was essential to be here._

_A squadron of soldiers ran across the open room, cutting in front of the aperture to the hall where he stood. He wondered if they were stormtroopers... They were clad in white armor, but for some reason they seemed different—they seemed...Deadlier. He realized that it didn't actually matter who they were—they were obviously the aggressors in whatever situation this was. Instinct told him that it was best not to let them find him._

_With a growing sense of urgency, he turned and began to run down a long corridor. He raised an arm across his face to filter the choking black smoke that filled the hall. He found a stairwell and quickly ascended the steps, taking them two at a time until he reached a landing many flights up. He gave himself a moment to rest—but only a moment. _

_He gasped hungrily at the polluted air around him. In an attempt to restore his strength, he reached out for the Force and recoiled immediately. Instead of finding tendrils of calm and rejuvenation, the currents around him carried only dizzying waves of pain, despair, and a profound sense of betrayal._

_Feeling a pressing tug to continue, he opened the stairwell panel and stepped out into an intensely lit corridor with many doors aligned along its walls. The nondescript design looked vaguely familiar, but haste made him push the thought aside. The smoke was much thinner here, but he knew it was only a matter of time before the flames would reach this level. _

_Then, with sickening dread, he suddenly recognized his surroundings. This was the Jedi Temple—the dormitory wing. It was where he had lived these past several months, but for some undeniable reason, he knew that _this_ was not his home. He moved forward quickly, the deepening sense of urgency pressing upon his back._

_Coming to a door halfway down the corridor, he stopped. There was something beyond the closed chamber—something that called to him—something he needed. Waving a hand at the access panel embedded in the wall, the door to the apartment opened with a swish. The room beyond was draped in shadow—cluttered with objects he could not clearly identify. He stretched out with his feelings and gathered that the apartment was unoccupied. Still, a pull from the Force drew him forward. He moved through the quiet room until he reached the door to the sleeping cell. The reflections of flames that groped up the exterior walls from the lower levels flickered ominously through the small window set high on the back wall. It bathed the sleeping cell in an unnatural red glow. Taking only a moment to gather himself, he stepped into the room._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_He stiffened as the familiar reverberating echoes filled his hearing. A mounting fear, greater than his own, began to squirm within him. He turned, slowly, to face the direction in which he had just entered. The common room was still dark, but the doorway to the brightly lit hall was clearly visible. He squinted at the glare as he watched a materializing shroud of darkness slowly rise to block the light._

_He recognized the shape—recognized the sound. He could identify an emanating tangle of emotions as well as they began to swirl around him in growing intensity: the seething anger inspired by a revelation of unveiling secrets and a crumbling foundation of misplaced faith; the sense of confusion at being swept away by passions that could no longer be controlled; the mounting despair in recognition that the only goal ever sought would always remain beyond reach... But the most intense feeling of all was the insatiable furnace of hatred. Hatred at what had transpired in the past, at what was occurring even now, and at what would inevitably come to pass in the future. All he saw, all he heard, and all he felt was manifested in the shadow that now formed in the doorway._

_Only then did he understand. This darkness was within him. It had overshadowed his life since before his birth; it had been both his constant companion and his nemesis, and apparently it seemed that it was forever destined to influence his future._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_He stared, transfixed, at the now smoke-filled blackened doorway until his eyes caught the glint of small flickering lights that he had been expecting. Slowly, methodically, the hulking form of Darth Vader stepped out of the shadow._

_"What do you want with me?" He yelled in frustration at the looming black silhouette. His raw voice came out raspy as he backed away and desperately tried to bank his fear._

_After several steps, the enigmatic figure stopped and gave a slight tilt of his hideous mask. With seemingly no effort, he activated a small control, and a red plasma blade burst from the hilt of the lightsaber that the Sith held tightly in a black-gloved hand._

_As he saw the blade ignite, he stiffened—held in an immovable grip by a force he could not recognize. He watched, frozen in place as Vader lifted his arm high. Then, with unimaginable speed and fluidity, the lightsaber became an elongated streak of red as it came crashing down._

_But the blade's aim was not directed at him. Splinters of wood exploded, and a fountain of sparks rose upward when the lightsaber met with its intended target. A large dresser that had sat on the side of the room buckled and split as it crashed to the ground._

_He glanced back up at the stoic figure of the Sith Lord in puzzlement and then again looked at the hapless dresser. Movement caught his eye as from the shambles of the broken furniture, small winged creatures began to emerge and take flight. They were delicate, lithe, and refined as they circled around him in greater numbers. In the dim illumination of the room, he could see that their wings were intricately designed and simmered with an ethereal glow._

_Butterflies!?_

_'~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~' _

Luke opened his eyes and stared blankly at the white ceiling above his bed in the dark room. Well, that was—_different_, he thought.

He could feel his consciousness slowly returning as he lay prone and motionless. His sweat-soaked sheets were twisted and disheveled around his body, the result of his earlier thrashing. He frowned as he tried to hold onto the memory of the scenes that had just assaulted him. His mind was still too numb to comprehend their meaning.

Had he just gone through another nightmare? True, he had become quite accustomed to them of late. But still… the images had seemed too vivid, the feelings too intense. He had sensed the warmth of the sand against his skin, felt the dryness and irritation in his throat from exposure to the smoke-filled air. Even now, he could still smell a hint of burnt wood and melted plasteel. He grimaced. Whatever that was, it had not been a simple nightmare.

But if what he had just experienced had not been a dream, he wondered what it could have been, and how it related to the current twisted state of his psyche. Was the episode a subconscious release of anxieties that had been conjured up by tormented thoughts of his sleep-deprived brain? He easily acknowledged that his head had been practically spinning by the time he had made it to his apartment after his late-night conversation with Master Cilghal.

Luke's unsettling condition had started when she had told him about her experiences with his father. Listening to the Mon Calamari's impressions of the volatile young man, he had not been able to help but make comparisons between her reflections of a distraught Anakin and his nephew's erratic behavior after Corellia. Luke was starting to wonder if his father's fall to the Dark Side had been precipitated by an experience that had occurred during the Clone Wars. But if that had been the case, and some unfathomable tragedy similar to what had befallen Jacen had happened to his father, then why had Ben and the Jedi Council not recognized the vulnerability within Anakin before it was too late? True, Luke had missed the clues with Jacen, but surely the Jedi Masters of that time would be more attuned to such a threat, would they not?

Those musings had made Luke begin to question if Jacen might not be totally lost to the Dark Side. After all, his father had been a Sith Lord for over twenty years, yet he had still found the inner strength to break the bonds of darkness and make an effort to redeem himself. Maybe there was still hope to bring Jacen back to the light …

However, he would have to meditate about that later. Now he had to deal with his current conundrum. Luke exhaled deeply and rubbed his face with his hands. The imagery that he had just experienced had been too precise to have just been random thoughts. The only reasonable explanation was the one that he was most trying to avoid. What he had just experienced had to have been a vision. Either caused and directed by the Force or some other—

His eyes snapped open, and he blinked several times, trying to focus on the room around him. He glanced over to the nightstand next to the bed. His brows furrowed as he caught a diminishing internal glow from the smooth blue globe sitting there. He pulled himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed to the floor. Reaching out for the crystal orb for closer inspection, he anticipated that it would be cold to his touch. His frown deepened as contact with his hand revealed that the object emanated pulsating warmth.

He ran through his memories of his trip to Agnostos as he slowly rotated the globe around with his fingers. What had B'Tak said about the device? Something about the vessel containing more than their missive. That it had been created specifically to help him _'design his path…'_ Ah, yes, that was it. But he hadn't planned to start seeking enlightenment tonight. All he genuinely wanted to do at the moment was sleep!

Luke dropped his head into his free hand. A guttural growl escaped through clenched teeth as he focused on the apparent source of his unwelcome interruption. He didn't need this—not now. What he needed to do was rest. He had not yet had time to recover from his recent trip, or the tortuously long council meeting. And then there were the hours he had spent pouring through fruitless research down in the Archives.

He had too many urgent issues to worry about already, and he wanted a clear mind to deal with them. There was Jacen, the situation on Brilar, and the coming war—he couldn't afford to add an ill-advised, illicit, no doubt dangerous, and probably impossible mission into the mix. But apparently, it didn't seem to matter what _he_ wanted...

No matter how much he was trying to avoid it, he couldn't ignore the sense of wrongness that was growing within him. Neither could he deny the silent urgent warnings coming from all directions that seemed to be stirring him to action.

Was the Force pushing him toward this absurdly delusional path? Was it taking this decision out of his hands? It wouldn't be the first time that it had done so. He thought of the second part of his vision. From what he had seen, Luke knew he was in the Temple. But it looked—and felt—so different. Could he have been experiencing a vision from another time? Was this a portent of what was to come? It felt more like being shown a glimpse into the past—possibly into what had occurred back in the time of the Purges. He didn't even want to imagine what the significance of Darth Vader's presence was meant to represent in all of this. Either way, even now, he could feel an insistent pull away from his bed and to a specific location somewhere in the Temple—somewhere close.

He sighed heavily. Standing up, he stumbled to the corner of the room to retrieve his long brown cloak from where it had lain folded over the back of a chair. Wrapping the warm material around his bare torso, he looked to the wall and the illuminated Chrono that hung there. The reading of 0345 flickered serenely from its face. Well, at least he had managed nearly four hours of sleep. That had to stand for something. He suspiciously looked once more at the dark orb he still held in his left hand as he raked the fingers of his right one through his unruly hair.

"Okay, you," he addressed the mysterious globe. "If you're here to show me something, we'd best be going...Before I come to my senses."

Luke dropped the rounded crystal in his pocket before slipping into his boots and making his way through the darkened apartment. He delayed only long enough to grab a glow stick from the utility drawer in the small kitchenette. Although he wasn't exactly sure where he was heading, he had a feeling that the area he was being urged to seek would be in one of the closed sections of the Temple—an area where amenities such as light and heat had yet to be restored.

_'~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~' _

It had been nearly a decade since the New Jedi Order had returned to the Temple. For the most part, the building had been sealed for over thirty-five years. Time and the Empire had not been kind to the ancient structure. But, like the Order itself, the building had survived. After ten years of hard work, they still had reclaimed only two-thirds of the Temple for daily use. Many floors remained closed-off and virtually untouched since the time of the Purges. As the new Order's numbers were still relatively few, there was no need for them to rush and over-extend their efforts. Although most of the common areas, including the hangar bays, exercise rooms, and meditation chambers, were back in use, floor upon floor of the old dormitory sections remained sealed. That was the direction that the Grand Master was now headed.

Luke climbed the stairs and passed into a restricted area of the ancient Temple. He could feel a change in the vibration of the Force as it thrummed around him. A profound sadness and sense of loss still clung to the marble columns and scorched plaster walls. It was palpable. He recognized many of the same feelings he had experienced in his vision. He felt the shock and panic that had run rampant through this sacred place when the clones had stormed their way inside. He didn't want to imagine the intensity of what it had felt like all those years ago. Even the small sampling that he had experienced during his vision had been overwhelming.

As he continued on his journey, his thoughts were not only of the Knights and Padawans who had lost their lives here, but of his beloved wife, as well. Mara had taken a leading role in the restoration efforts of the Temple. Her organized practicality and artistic aptitude had been invaluable—not to mention her ability to motivate others to take on and accomplish seemingly impossible tasks. She had wanted to see the Temple restored as much as he did. She should have had her wish. Now, with the threat of war and the imminent confrontation with the Sith, he wasn't sure if any Jedi would see that day.

Again, the conversation on Agnostos entered his mind._ 'The Empire was never meant to rise from the ashes of the Republic. Nor was the Jedi Order ever doomed to face near extinction.'_ That had been quite an assertion, but even when B'Tak Katan had said it, something deep in Luke confirmed its validity.

Yes, tampering with the past was a criminal offense. But up to a few decades ago, so was being a member of the Rebel Alliance. Just because something had been deemed illegal didn't always mean that it was not the correct course of action. He remembered Leia telling him exactly that more than once.

_'You already know the right thing to do. We are all counting on you,' _He heard the gentle words of his aunt whisper softly within his mind.

Luke reached the landing on the nineteenth floor. This was three flights above the highest occupied level. He realized with a slight tingle of excitement that he probably would be the first person in nearly fifty years to walk through these halls. Pushing the frivolous thought from his mind, he pressed the panel to gain entry to the main hall. The door slid open slowly. It stopped three quarters of the way in its tracks, the mechanism too worn and seized due to lack of maintenance and disuse.

Carefully squeezing through the gap, Luke began to make his way through the corridor. The large windows at the far end of the hall provided enough diffused light reflected from the incessant flow of speeder traffic outside to help him see his way.

He had been correct in his assumptions. The soot-covered walls and grimy fixtures displayed clear evidence that no one had been on this level since the fires of the Purges had extinguished themselves from lack of fuel. The clear pattern of his footfalls in the thick layer of dust and ash on the floor behind him added confirmation, as well.

As he had done in his vision, Luke stopped midway down the hall. He placed his left hand on a partially closed door and paused. He gave a small shake to his head and wrenched the door open fully. A wall of blackness greeted him. Grabbing the glow stick out of his pocket, he ignited it as he stepped through the opening. His jaw dropped in astonishment. This was not what he expected to find at all.

Luke held his light source high above his head to get a better view of the small room. Where he had expected to find a sparsely furnished apartment, he was instead confronted by what appeared to be more of a parts warehouse. Metal bins neatly lined the walls. Gears, electrical components, and droid parts overflowed from their tops. In front of one of the rows of containers, half-assembled droids stood at vacant attention. Luke could make out only a few pieces of charred furniture within the room—several were still recognizable as worktables. Those that were still standing were laden with tools and testing equipment. The overall ambiance gave little hint to the space being living quarters and was much more indicative of its function as a workshop.

The Jedi Master backed out of the room and looked both ways down the hall in bewilderment. He closed his eyes to try and focus on the tendril of the Force that had seemed to be guiding his actions. No, this was the place, he confirmed. But why had he been directed to an over-sized parts closet? More than that, why was such a storage facility maintained in the middle of this dormitory level at all?

He looked toward the entrance of the darkened room again. A soot-covered address plate affixed to the wall next to the door caught his eye. As it was unreadable in its current state, Luke used the edge of his robe to wipe the years of grime away. Drawing his arm back, he stared blankly at the lettering the plate now revealed. An icy shiver unconsciously skittered down his spine as he read: "1977 – A. Skywalker." This had been his father's room.

Swallowing hard, he re-entered the dark apartment. He couldn't exactly identify all the emotions that were riotously surging through him; there were far too many to count. He realized with some surprise that, up to now, the idea of searching for his father's room had never once occurred to him. It was obvious that it would have been somewhere in the Temple, but it had never seemed to matter. Stepping through the room, he idly pondered that if his father had lived here, then Ben's room would probably not be too far away. The thought of investigating those quarters as well fascinated him. But he did not have time to make this a treasure hunt. He banked his inopportune desires and continued forward.

Picking his way through the scattered debris, Luke carefully walked to the back wall and the door to the sleeping cell. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the small room with a purpose. Anticipating the sound of a respirator to fill the air, Luke froze for a moment, and then shook his head to dispel the imagery that did not materialize. He was not dreaming now.

Employing the glow stick once again, Luke looked around the small chamber. The fires that had ravaged the Temple had done their work extremely well in the room in which he now stood. The furniture that remained recognizable was blackened and charred. Uniforms that had once hung in the small closet were no more than lumps of ash on the floor. The metal frame of a sleeping cot was clearly visible, though the mattress and bedding had utterly disintegrated. After taking a few steps into the room, Luke noticed several piles of stacked flimsies that had been kept well-under what was once the bed. They had obviously been hidden from general view. Luke could not help but wonder what information they could have contained that a young Jedi would not want known to be in his possession.

Unable to push the desire away to investigate, Luke leaned down next to the closest stack. The first several layers were no more than ash. He brushed them aside until he found one still relatively intact. He lifted what tuned out to be a bound periodical to the light to get a better view. Luke couldn't help, but smile as he read the title displayed on the scorched cover page: Popular Astromechanics. He had loved reading this magazine as a boy. He vividly remembered how he used to hover around the school library every month on the day a new issue was to be delivered. He had always been the first one to check it out. No matter how much he had begged, Uncle Owen had refused to buy him a subscription of his own, stating that it was a wasteful misuse of credits.

He rifled through the rest of the stack, amused to discover several other types of periodicals, most of them having to do with speeders, swoop bikes, and podracing—a sport that had been banned in the early days of the Empire. Rising up from the floor, Luke shook his head in amazement. He would have never guessed that his father could have been so _normal_—so much like him... Though Anakin's interests had probably not been thought acceptable behavior for a Jedi Knight at the time. Still, until his son came along, Luke had always believed that he was the lone member of his family who harbored an aptitude for mechanical tinkering and a love for speed and racing. Obviously, it had been an inherited trait from his father. He idly wondered what else had they shared in common?

Luke distractedly rubbed the ash from his hand on his dark robe. He turned to leave when his eyes landed on the charred dresser against the far wall. A tingling at the back of his neck reminded him of his earlier dream. That was the same dresser that the specter of Darth Vader had destroyed. But why? He slowly moved across the room to eye the piece of furniture suspiciously. He could not for the life of him come up with a reason for its importance.

Urged on in his investigation, he pulled out the first drawer and found only what he expected, singed and discolored clothing lay neatly folded within. The second and third drawers held similar items as they contained briefs, leggings, and under-tunics. He felt somewhat odd looking through what was essentially his father's underwear drawers, but sensing a greater need to pursue his search, he continued nonetheless. The contents of the fourth and final drawer also came as no surprise, but this time he pulled the bottom drawer altogether out of the dresser and laid it on the floor. Not being satisfied with just a visual search, he gently rifled through the contents. Moving a singed pair of sleep pants away from the back corner, Luke froze. His action had uncovered a small, carefully carved wooden box. Luke brought the glow stick closer to the item to examine it in greater detail. The box had been decorated with a design made from desert runes. He had seen similar markings etched on small stones, and snippets of Japor to create jewelry back on Tatooine. He had never learned their meaning—something that he acutely regretted at this moment.

He reached out. When his fingers touched the fragile container, its sides collapsed into pieces. Luke hissed a Huttese curse and berated himself for not being more careful. The box had been old; possibly one of his father's earliest possessions, and now it was lost forever. As he drew away from the drawer, a small glitter of reflected light caught his eyes from beneath the remnants of the box. Being more cautious this time, he waved his hand over the drawer, and the splinters of wood that had been the container's top gently tumbled to the side. The item that was revealed below left him utterly speechless. Reaching forward, he called the fragile object to his hand with the Force.

As it landed in his palm, he stared at it dumbly. He could not possibly come up with any reason why such a thing as this would be residing in the sleeping cell of a Jedi Knight...

It was a woman's hair clip. The small trinket was made from ornate beading woven into an intricate pattern. The design was clearly an interlacing spray of finespun flowers. Each delicate petal had been created with a mix of colorful, precious gems. There were also wire frames, that must have once been covered with some type of material, forming two pair of wings amid the finery. The clip was as much a piece of art as an item of jewelry. It had to have been tremendously valuable. Far too expensive to have been purchased legitimately, no matter how many years a Jedi might have saved his meager stipend. Luke's frown deepened. This was much more condemning contraband than just a few stacks of magazines. A myriad of questions began swirling in his head. How had his father acquired such an expensive and eloquent piece of jewelry? Was this to be a gift? Or was it a token of remembrance? Why had it been hidden away in a place it should never have been in the first place?

"Who were you, Anakin Skywalker?" Luke quietly questioned the darkness. Now, more than ever, he felt a niggling through the Force that whispered he needed to find out.


	9. Chapter 9 Chasing Ghosts

**_A/N #1:_**_ I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy. _

**_A/N #2: _**_This story would not be what it is without the help of my supremely competent original beta reader, Deja Vu. Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated._

**_A/N #3: _**_Thank you all again for your continuing support reflected through your reviews. Feedback is always appreciated. I try to answer signed reviews individually, but for those who have sent anonymous reviews, here are my responses: To **LL**: I am glad you enjoyed the last chapter. I have a lot of fun writing the visions. There will be several more to come. To **Darth Max**: I am glad that you caught the room number. I was wondering if anyone would do so. To everyone else out there who have this story either tagged as a favorite or put on alert status, I hope you will continue to enjoy how this tale develops._

**_A/N #4: _**_This chapter was revised and re-posted in July 2013._

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**Chapter 9 – Chasing Ghosts**

Thousands of befuddling, poorly identified interchanges; labyrinths of thoroughfares clogged with every conceivable configuration of craft; scores of pilots exhibiting varying degrees of experience, confidence, or simple common courtesy. Culminated together, the created the chaotic mayhem and mass confusion known as Coruscant's overburdened transportation system. Maneuvering through the planet's densely traveled traffic lanes was a challenge for even the most seasoned pilots. It made space battles seem almost tame by comparison.

Luke Skywalker was feeling uncommonly flustered and slightly queasy as he weaved his small, open-topped speeder through the frenzied congestion. Granted, he was suffering from a serious bout of sleep deprivation along with near total exhaustion, but still...

He knew that he should be concentrating harder on his piloting, but he was feeling so terribly conflicted. It was difficult to focus on much of anything other than his internal struggles with his conscience. Despite his desire to share an enjoyable dinner in the company of his sister and brother-in-law, he had the sinking feeling that he would be engaged in a night of evasive deception. Each measure of distance that brought him closer to his destination seemed like another click off the timer of a thermal detonator set to explode. The thought had come to him more than once to turn around, and just head back to the Temple, but he knew he could not do that to his only remaining family. He had to talk to Leia. He needed to see Han.

Luke's mounting quandary had actually begun during the early morning Council session. Since the investigation into the Brilar incident was still in its preliminary stages, and the rest of the galaxy remained eerily calm, the meeting had been mercifully short. The only item on the agenda had been a discussion on how to proceed regarding the intercepted transmission unveiling Jacen—Darth Caedus—as the Sith leader of the Iron Fist. Thankfully, the Council had not chosen to replay the message. He was not sure he could have sat through it again.

Luke had voluntarily chosen to abstain from active participation in the discussion—due to his personal involvement in the situation—although he had remained to observe. It had hardly taken any time for the Jedi to decide to report the existence of the Iron Fist organization to the Republic officials—emphasizing the grave threat that this newly unveiled insurgency posed to the galaxy.

Luke had supported the appointment of Master Corran Horn to represent the Jedi's interests and work with the Republican military until Master Hamner could join him once he returned from Brilar. It was imperative to organize a strong coalition if they hoped to avert any further aggressive actions from this terrorist group. With both men's past military experience and continuing close ties with top governmental officials, it would make the mobilization of such a combined force both prompt and effective.

However, it was the Council's final decision that had left Luke deeply troubled. With emotions running so high in the aftermath of the Brilarian massacre, the Council had wanted to avoid the inevitable fear and panic that would ensue throughout the ever-fragile New Republic once it was discovered that Darth Caedus had previously been a Jedi Knight. Citing those understandable trepidations, the majority of his peers had voted to sequester the intercepted transmission from its intended recipients. The Council may have had valid concerns prompting their decision, but Luke was undoubtedly certain that they had made a critical error.

Luke still regretted not breaking his self-imposed silence to argue in opposition, but he was nevertheless bound to abide by the Council's mandate. And when the content of the transmission was inevitably leaked to the public, it would be up to him, as Grand Master, to defuse whatever terrible repercussions would arise.

However, what worried Luke the most was Leia's reaction to the news. Deep in his heart, he knew that the galaxy's anger and mistrust would pale in comparison to his sister's wrath. As Supreme Chancellor, she may not allow her feelings to affect her official dealings with the Jedi Order, but Luke was sure that he would not be able to deflect the full brunt of her anger focusing toward him. He was certain that Leia would consider this cover-up as a personal affront. All he could hope for was that it would be an exceedingly long time before she found out.

A slight warning by the Force caused Luke to jerk back on the speeder's steering yoke just in time for a large, lumbering freight transport to cut across his path. A rant of excited beeps and whistles spurted from the astromech droid behind him.

"It's okay, Artoo," Luke lulled his electronic friend. "I figured that he was going to do something like that."

Luke glanced toward the back of the speeder, to make sure the little blue and white droid was still safely secured in the back seat. Artoo continued with his commentary as he fluently expressed his thoughts in regards to the great number of inept pilots who traveled through the Coruscanti skyways. Luke smiled as he listened to Artoo's tirade.

He had not originally planned to bring the astromech with him tonight, but as soon as Artoo had discovered Luke's itinerary, there was no way that the little droid was going to be left behind. Luke couldn't blame him. It had been months since Artoo had last been with Threepio. He had little doubt that the two droids would have plenty to talk—and bicker—about. They were sure to remain quite occupied with each other during his visit. Besides, Artoo had been an immense help to him today. Allowing the droid to see his friend was the least Luke could do to show his appreciation.

Continuing with his brooding, Luke reflected on his earlier activities. After the Council meeting had adjourned for the day, he had found himself with some unexpected free time. Luke's recent disturbing visions combined with his early-morning adventure had seemed to spur a preoccupation with the man at the perceived focal point of both. He had again retreated down to the Archives in hopes of assuaging his growing curiosity and unraveling some of the mystery surrounding his father with information that was still available.

However, it became clear almost immediately that all of his father's files, including service records, Temple transcripts, and even medical logs, had been deleted from both the Jedi's main computer and the publicly accessible database stored on the Holonet. It was as if Anakin Skywalker had never officially existed. Luke figured that Darth Vader had been the instigator of this handiwork. He clearly remembered the Sith Lord's adamant refusal to acknowledge his former self. The only mention of Anakin Skywalker that Luke had been able to find were in a smattering of deployment rosters that had no doubt been overlooked—like the one for the battle of Praesitlyn that he had uncovered the previous night.

Frustrated by his lack of success, he had retrieved Artoo from the hangar bay. He wasn't sure if the little astromech could come up with any more information in the archival records than he had, but the droid always had an remarkable ability when it came to communicating with other computers. Artoo always seemed to be able to find just about anything that Luke needed to know.

Artoo had seemed hesitant at first when Luke had told him what he was looking for, but after a few long whistles of concern, he had plugged himself into a dataport and began to work as diligently as ever. Luke had requested that Artoo first conduct another filtered search of the Holonet Luke had tried this tactic, he had only run a search by his father's name and had come up empty.

The first item that Artoo had retrieved was a questionable article from a news-link service called _The Outer Rim Herald_. The story was captivating, but not tremendously useful. It detailed a human slave winning the Boonta Eve podrace on Tatooine. There had been no mention of the slave's name, but it did refer to his owner, a Toydarian called Watto, who was a junk dealer from Mos Espa. Luke didn't know all that much about the banned sport of podracing, but the article had explicitly detailed the extraordinary race and continually emphasized that it was the first time in history a human had ever won.

Initially, Luke had been intrigued, for even old Ben had told him that his father had been an extraordinary pilot. However, after closer examination, Luke's interest had date in the byline was a year before Master Cilghal's first encounter with his meant that Anakin would have only been nine years old at the time. He doubted that any youngling could even possess such astounding ability.

Artoo's retrieval of that article had caused Luke to worry about the droid's functionality. He had momentarily wondered if the little astromech might have a loose wire somewhere in his circuitry. However, his faith in Artoo's resourcefulness was quickly restored when he came up with his next results. Luke wasn't sure how he had known to try, but Artoo had scored several hits running a sub-search through the Holonet using the keywords "Hero With No Fear."

The information the droid had obtained may have been scant—nothing more than a few enticing tidbits—but it was nonetheless entertaining. There were less than a dozen articles originally distributed by obscure planetary tabloids that contained in-depth reports of Clone War campaigns involving this _Hero With No Fear_ character—all of them giving near unbelievable accounts of his actions during and after the battles. As he read them, he had started to believe that they were weighted more with fiction than fact. It reminded Luke of the few graphic flimsies that he had managed to stash away in the family garage when he was a kid. It also made him wonder if the outrageous accounts were a product of the tabloid's desire to sell copies, or the Republic's propaganda machine trying to sway public opinion regarding the war effort.

He had made it through half the articles before he found the first reference to his father—identifying him as this larger than life Jedi warrior. Even then, his name was mentioned as no more than a side note—as if the entire Galaxy were more familiar with his father's embellished title than his identity. Still, reading that Anakin Skywalker had been portrayed as some kind of epic hero had caused Luke's boyhood fantasies to rush back to life. It had been a heady feeling, but it hadn't lasted particularly long...

The first icy splash of reality came when Artoo uncovered an official report from the files of the Coruscant Security Force. It listed a citation issued to a twelve-year-old Anakin Skywalker for participating in illegal pit racing. There was no doubt that this was his father, as the citation listed his residence as the Jedi Temple, and his guardian as Obi-Wan Kenobi. It also stated the boy had sustained severe injuries during the illicit activity. Artoo discovered several other citations covering a span of nearly a decade. They ranged from simple speeding tickets to more serious charges of reckless piloting—but nothing with such spectacularly disastrous results as the first one that he had found. It was curious, however—all of them had been either abated or cancelled. Luke doubted that the Jedi would have had enough influence over the planet's secular legal system to accomplish such a feat. He idly wondered who would.

Finally, Artoo was able to find a few references regarding his father from the Jedi records themselves. However, they were far from glowing. Luke had been correct that all official documentation had been destroyed, but there were still some bits of information left—mostly in the form of electronic messages between Temple staff and the Council. Artoo had quickly compiled a rather lengthy list of them.

It was not at all what the Grand Master had expected to see. Most of the communications consisted of disciplinary reports during the first few years of his father's residency at the Temple. Many had requested formal suspensions due to substandard academic performance or unbecoming conduct. Although, there had been a few messages that had suggested other, more creative forms of corrective punishments. The incidents of misbehavior covered a gambit from physical altercations with fellow younglings and pulling pranks on instructors, to truancy and displays of open defiance. All of the records contained similar assessments of Anakin, stating that although he was gifted; his attitude was often arrogant, impatient, impulsive, and reckless. Those reports had also dwindled over the years. Luke was unsure if his father's behavior had mollified, or if the Masters were just worn down and began ignoring the infractions.

As the day progressed,Luke had become more disheartened with every discovery of his father's past life. If he had dared to act out in any way close to Anakin's behavior when growing up, Uncle Owen would have strapped him to a moisture vaporator and left him for the Tuskens. As an instructor himself, Luke would have instigated an intervention before his father's antics could disrupt his fellow classmates. Why hadn't the Council acted? Was Master Cilghal's derisive comment on the mark? Were the Jedi tolerating his father's destructive behavior because of their belief in prophecy? It was an extraordinarily unsettling thought.

Still, Luke felt he was missing something—something significant, and it puzzled him to no end. He distinctly remembered Master Yoda telling him that his father had once been a powerful Jedi. When he had first met Ben, the recluse old Jedi had touted his father's abilities and wistfully said that they had once been as close as brothers. But then again, that proclaimed familiarity had not kept his father—or rather Darth Vader—from striking down his former Master on the Death Star.

By late afternoon, Luke had been nearly frustrated enough to give up the search entirely. That was until Artoo made the suggestion to widen the parameters. Luke agreed, citing that if he couldn't find what he wanted directly, then maybe he could learn something from his father's associates. His first choice was obvious.

Luke had Artoo run a search on his father's mentor and friend, Obi-Wan Kenobi. The amount of information that the little droid amassed in just moments from the Temple data banks was staggering. With needing to prepare for his dinner engagement with Han and Leia, he had only been able to give the records a quick scan. However, he did have time to notice that most of the information had centered on Ben's early life—when he was a Padawan himself. But after an assignment with his Master to a Mid-Rim planet called Naboo to settle a trade dispute, the records became far more sketchy and incomplete.

Although he looked forward to having the time to inspect the information more thoroughly, he still didn't think that there would be enough there to help him in his search. That had left one other person who would have known his father well—his mother. Luke didn't remember her at all—he didn't even know her name—but he thought that Leia might. He still remembered the short conversation he had with her on Endor an exceedingly long time ago. Maybe she could provide him with some insight that would help with his search...

Luke shook his head to dislodge the veil of insanity that had apparently crept over his brain. He was truly in danger of losing his senses if he were planning to broach the subject of their parentage with his sister. Despite the many years that had passed, Leia's feelings about their father remained volatile and bitter. Just bringing up the subject would be awkward.

But how else was he ever going to be able to string all the varied pieces together to come up with a true representation of who the man truly was? No wonder the Temporal Ward had considered his father an enigma. There were just far too many questions about Anakin Skywalker, and it didn't appear that there remained a way to find any of the answers.

A whirl of electronic gibberish brought Luke's mind back to focus on his surroundings. He suppressed the urge to admonish Artoo for his backseat driving, and instead, tightened his grip on the controls and turned the speeder away from the main thoroughfare to head in the direction of his destination. All of his dizzying thoughts faded into the background of his mind as the structure directly ahead of his path came into view. The architecture of the Galaxia Towers was particularly distinctive against the skyline. Its gilded edges glistened in the setting sun and stood out against the stark white ferrocrete that made up the slender profile of the familiar apartment complex.

He and Mara had also kept an apartment in the Towers since they had moved to Coruscant. Luke sorrowfully noted that this was his first time back to the building since just after his family's funeral. His trepidation heightened as he maneuvered his craft toward the familiar upper-level docking bay.

He had not realized how difficult it was going to be to come back. He remembered carrying Mara over the threshold the day they had moved in. How they had animatedly discussed the decor of their new apartment until Mara proceeded to overrule all of his choices. Doting incessantly on his increasingly irritated wife throughout her pregnancy until finally being threatened with physical harm if he didn't desist.

He and Mara had raised their son here for all eight years of his far too short life. Ben had taken his first steps in their living room, spoken his first words at their kitchen table. He and Ben had spent hours sitting on their veranda—his son mesmerized by the passing traffic and chatting enthusiastically about his desire to one day become a pilot and Jedi "just like his dad."

Luke landed the speeder in the near-empty hangar and extracted Artoo from the back seat in silence. As they waited for the turbolift that would take them to their destination, Luke stuck his hands into the pockets of his long, heavy cloak. He started slightly as the fingers of his left hand brushed over an oddly shaped object tucked in the bottom corner of the pocket. Pulling it out for closer examination, he recognized it immediately. It was the delicate hair clip that he had discovered hidden away in his father's room. Why he had not removed it from his pocket before now, he could not answer. The doors to the lift swished open, and Luke quickly tucked the clip into the inside pocket of his tunic and entered.

As Luke reached for the control panel, his hand instinctively hesitated over the button to his own apartment's level. He closed his eyes and took a deep shuddering breath as he forced himself to raise and push the top button. He entered the required pass code for entry to the secured penthouse level. As the pod began to rise, Artoo emitted an excited twitter of beeps and whistles. Luke was too lost in his own memories to pay much heed to him.

When the lift doors opened onto the foyer of the penthouse apartment, Luke's senses were nearly overwhelmed with the enticing aromas of bantha stew and freshly baked haroun bread. Unable to hold back any longer, Artoo squealed excitedly and rolled forward into the apartment. Luke winced and bit his lower lip as the little droid unceremoniously rolled his tractor-tread foot over the top of Luke's boot. The commotion caused the familiar golden protocol droid to push his way through the swing panel separating the dining area from the kitchen and hurriedly shuffled out to meet his former master. He passed the stout astromech without hesitation.

"Master Luke, it is so very good to see you," Threepio gushed. "May I take your cloak?"

Annoyed at his apparent slight, Artoo twittered a barrage of clicks and beeps at his taller counterpart.

"Yes, Artoo," the golden droid turned to answer his friend, "Of course I saw you. There is nothing wrong with my optical sensors, after all. But I must attend to my primary function." He turned back to the Jedi. "I am sorry for the interruption, sir, but you know how impatient he gets."

"It's fine, Threepio," Luke smiled as he handed the droid his outerwear. "Go on—I'm sure you both have a lot of catching up to do."

Threepio nodded obediently as he turned and shuffled away, Artoo quickly pivoting his cylindrical body to accompany his friend. "Honestly, Artoo," the tall protocol droid scolded, "sometimes I wonder how Master Luke has put up with you for all these years."

The two droids had barely turned the corner before Luke's attention was centered on another familiar form rushing to greet him. Leia practically threw herself into his arms and clutched him tightly. He closed his eyes and returned her embrace.

She pulled away to scrutinize him closely. He was sure she had immediately noted his deteriorated appearance from the last time they had been together, and he also was sure that she wouldn't hold back from acknowledging it. He was right.

"What is this?" She tipped her head and smiled as she ruffled her fingers through her brother's shaggy blond hair. "Have the Temple barbers suddenly lost all of their shears? Or are you trying to start a new trend here?"

"Hey," Luke narrowed his eyes defensively as he deflected her hand and tried to smooth down his disheveled hair. "I don't know what you mean. I used to wear my hair a lot longer than this."

"Not for the last twenty years," she shot back. Her smile faded, and something passed over her features that Luke could not readily identify. "I'm glad you came, Luke." Her words were merely more than a whisper, but he was sure that they came purely from her heart.

The lump that formed in his throat prevented him from answering, so he just nodded. He and Leia had always been close, but it seemed that lately an unexplainable distance had begun to grow between them. He could feel that sense of isolation now as if a physical entity were standing between them. Luke was tempted to try to search his sister's feelings, but he was hesitant as to what he might find. They were both going through a difficult time. He hoped that, at some point, their relationship could return to the closeness they had once shared, but he just didn't know how to go about making it so.

Leia pulled back and grabbed his hand. "There's someone else who really needs to see you," she averred softly. Turning away, she led Luke toward the main part of the apartment.

As soon as they turned and entered the large living space, Luke stopped abruptly. He had tried to prepare himself for this encounter. He had known what to expect—he had last seen Han just before he had been discharged from the convalescent center—but nothing could abate his initial shock.

The irreverent renegade and sharp**-**tongued smuggler who had become Luke's self-appointed,over-protective big brother no longer existed. Luke was not sure he could come to grips with the broken remnants of the man who had replaced him. He only hoped that his face had not betrayed too much.

"I was hoping that you would bring Jacen with you tonight." Leia's voice cut into him and his head snapped to look at her in concern. She was standing with her back to her husband. The tone of Leia's voice was light, but the intensity in her eyes expressed that Han was still not aware of Jacen's disappearance. "His responsibilities with the Jedi keep him so busy, we never see him anymore."

"Y-Yes, I'm sorry." Luke played into her ruse. "We all seem to have a great deal more responsibility these days." He swallowed awkwardly as he attempted to come up with a response that would not blatantly cause him to lie. "I will remind him to contact you the next time I speak with him," he offered.

"Thank you," Leia smiled appreciatively. She moved around behind her husband and placed her hands protectively on his shoulders.

Han Solo gave no acknowledgment to her actions. He couldn't. All he could do was to continue and sit motionless, confined as he was in a life-support hover chair. The severity of his injuries caused by the terrorist attack on Corellia,as well as the succession of seizures and strokes that complicated his recovery,had left him totally paralyzed. His arms and legs were withered and useless; most of his bodily functions were now run by external medical intervention;his ashen face was set in stony neutrality with his mouth slightly agape. Only an occasional blink of his dull, unfocused eyes belied the existence of a human being within a stoic, wasted shell of flesh.

"H-I _ K-I-D"

The letters slowly appeared on the large datapad embedded in the front of the hover chair. This was Han's only outlet for communication. It was a tedious process achieved by manipulating cybernetic connectors implanted deep within his damaged brain.

Luke leaned down in front of his friend and placed his hand over Han's cold, lifeless arm. "Hello, Han," Luke smiled tightly. "It's good to see you."

There was no response on the black datapad screen, but Luke had the distinct impression that if Leia had not been in the room, the word "_LIAR" _would have been displayed.

"Excuse the interruption," Threepio's highbrow voice broke into the awkward silence. "Dinner is served."

Luke had never been so happy and relieved for the protocol droid's intervention.

Dinner turned out as arduous a task as Luke had dreaded it would be. Although Threepio had prepared a capable meal, their conversation was stagnant and awkward. There were so many painful topics that everyone needed to avoid—it was difficult to say anything at all. He and Leia settled for discussing meaningless subjects of fluff and inconsequence instead. Han had sat with them, though his condition prevented him from partaking in the meal. Both Leia and Luke had tried to include him in their conversations, but his responses were spotty at best.

When they had finally finished, Leia stayed behind to prepare caf, and Luke guided Han's hover chair into the living room. He placed him at the corner between two long couches and then sat down at the edge of one of them so he could be close to his friend. The datapad on the front of the chair lit up as the letters slowly began to form.

"J-A-C-E-N _ G-O-N-E"

"Yes, he is," Luke dropped his head as he confirmed Han's question. Although he knew Leia had wanted to protect him, Han was the boy's father. He had the right to know.

"S-I-T-H"

Luke's eyes widened as he looked at his stoic friend in shock. It took a moment for him to realize that Han's comment was an expletive of frustration rather than the foreseen outcome of the boy's fate.

"We don't know where he is for sure," Luke fumbled over his words. It was the truth, from a certain point of view. The exact location of Jacen's apostate force remained hidden. He dropped his head, unable to look his best friend in the eye as he continued. "We have been checking our resources, but so far, there has been little word." He exhaled heavily—despising his deception as he did.

After a few moments, the datapad again began to display letters.

"H-E-L-P"

"What's wrong?" Luke questioned worriedly. He rose from his seat and placed his hand on his friend's shoulder in concern. "Han, are you in pain?"

"T-H-I-S _ N-O-T _ L-I-F-E"

Luke stared at the letters on the display and then pulled his gaze to his friend's ashen face. Stricken with remorse, he looked into Han's dull hazel eyes as he desperately tried to come up with any words of comfort, though he knew that none existed in the universe.

The screen went instantly dark as Leia entered the room. Luke pulled away and took his seat once again. Leia sat a tray with two steaming cups of caf down on the table in front of the couches. She then moved to sit on the opposing couch next to her husband and bent forward as she chastely kissed Han's waxen cheek. The datapad started up again.

'T-I-R-E-D"

The letters came slower this time.

"Excuse me, Luke." Leia instantly stood up, her focus totally set to tend to her husband.

"It's okay," Luke replied to his sister gently. He turned once again to focus on his friend. "I'll see you soon, Han," he offered.

"S-U-R-E"

"Please Luke, don't leave yet," Leia asked, her eyes pleading.

"I'll be here." He smiled. Luke watched silently as his sister maneuvered her husband's hover chair through the expansive living room. He remained seated until they had slowly disappeared down the hall. Luke closed his eyes and leaned forward, his forehead supported by the knuckles of his clasped hands as his elbows rested on his knees.

Drawing a deep breath, he fought to keep the tears welling in his eyes from falling as images of his best friend, the best man at his wedding, the godfather of his only son, the man who had saved his life countless times on countless occasions flooded his mind.

How many lifetimes ago had it been since they had been trapped in that detention level garbage masher, or spent that frozen night huddled together on a wind-swept ice field on Hoth? How many years had passed since they had stood shackled together on the rim of the Great Pit of Carkoon, or dangled from a woven snare high above the forested floor on Endor?

Luke shook his head. It didn't matter when those events happened, only that they had. So many adventures shared between the two of them—Han with his cocky smile, and he with his delusions of grandeur. Luke had always believed that he would do anything in his power for the sake of his best friend. If only Luke could find a way to do something to help him now...


	10. Chapter 10 From One to Another

**_A/N #1:_**_ I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy. _

**_A/N #2: _**_This story would not be what it is without the help of my supremely competent original beta reader, Deja Vu. Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated._

**_A/N #3: _**_This chapter was revised and re-posted in July 2013._

* * *

**Chapter 10 – From One to Another**

Being left alone in the living room gave Luke time to return to his brooding. He stood up from the couch and moved to the bank of large windows along the back of the apartment. Folding his arms across his chest, he passively watched the lights of countless speeders and ships maneuver through the city's busy traffic lanes—blissfully ignorant to the approaching danger that would certainly devastate all of their lives. Darkness had descended over this side of the planet. It seemed appropriate as an ambiance of gloom had also settled over his heart.

His immediate thoughts centered on his best friend. Han was right. Condemned as he was to his current existence was no life—at least, not for someone who had been so active—so enlivened. According to what he remembered Leia telling him, Han's condition would never improve. His body had rejected most of the cybernetic implants that could aid him. The seizures and strokes that had complicated his recovery had caused even more damage than the original explosion. After months of innovative treatments, the healers had finally confessed that there was nothing more to do. That was when Leia had taken him from the convalescent center to bring him home and care for him herself.

Luke's musings drifted toward his sister. He was so worried about her. No one should bear the burdens of the Galaxy as her position as Supreme Chancellor demanded while helplessly standing by to watch their beloved slowly wither away—a prisoner in his shell of a non-functioning body. Leia had always been strong, but he could sense that there was something troubling her tonight.

Once again, Luke deeply regretted that his sister had never accepted his offers of Jedi training. It would have helped her cope with whatever inner struggle she was dealing with. But no matter how fervently he pleaded, Leia had always managed to come up with an excuse why she couldn't spare the time—her commitments to the Alliance, her role in the New Republic, the needs of her family—he had finally stopped asking. It was a pity, too. She would have made a remarkable Jedi—just like her children...

Luke closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest. Inhaling deeply, he fought to dismiss the images from the intercepted transmission that he did not want to remember. What was he going to do about Jacen? Luke hated the idea of not telling Leia and Han the truth about their son. Honesty was an ingrained part of his nature, especially when it involved family. But even if the Council had allowed it, how could he explain their son's fall to the Dark Side? He could not do_ it_—Luke admitted—at least not until he had figured out a way to try and save him.

_But what if Jacen refused to return to the light?_

As he raised his head, and stared out into the gloom of the Coruscanti night, Luke felt drawn to consider the vile repercussions that could result from fulfilling his duty as Jedi Grand Master. The Sith had to be stopped before they could spread their evil ways and plunge the galaxy again into darkness. By mandate, the Jedi Order was obligated to oppose them. With his father's help, Luke had ended the Sith's domination once before, but did he have the strength to stop Darth Caedus now? Would he be able to strike down his only surviving nephew—knowing that he would also be destroying Han and Leia...And probably himself in the process?

Luke took another deep breath and let the air hiss out through clenched teeth. Never had he felt so empty and alone as he did at this moment. He needed guidance, yet the more he looked for direction from the Force, the harder it seemed for him to find peace with what it showed him. The galaxy had seemed to turn upside down. What he had once taken for granted as reality—now appeared skewed, broken, and..._Wrong_.

What was worse was that no matter how he assessed the progression of events—from the rise of the Empire to this new threat of the Sith—he couldn't dismiss the underlying sense that either he or his family had been directly responsible for so much of the damage. He needed to find a way to repair _everything_ that seemed to be broken... Of course, he had already been offered a probable solution by the Temporal Ward, but was he desperate enough, even to consider it? Luke shook his head as his thoughts circled back to the time he had spent in the Archives. Maybe he subconsciously already had...

Feeling a vibration through the Force, Luke pulled out of his dark reverie and turned to see Leia coming back to the living room. She walked up to him, and they shared another comforting hug. For the first time tonight, Luke truly looked at his sister when he drew back from her.

Leia appeared so tired, her porcelain skin pale. Despite the severity of her hairstyle, he could clearly note that there were far more streaks of silver lacing through her dark brown locks than he had ever remembered. As with him, she had aged years within just the past few months. However, what most frightened him was the expression on her face. The depth of sadness in her eyes was painful to see. There was something else too. An odd cast flashed across her features for barely an instant. It was shadowy and elusive, and Luke could not interpret it. He pulled even further from their embrace and turned back to stare vacantly out the window. He kept an arm around Leia's waist as a means of offering silent support.

"Did you ever wonder what life would have been like without the Empire?" He mused.

"The Empire doesn't exist now, Luke," came her bewildered answer.

"That's not what I meant." He dropped his head slightly and closed his eyes,trying to clarify his thoughts. He ignored the niggling warning that quietly urged him not to be speaking of this—_not now_—not with his own emotions so tangled and confused.

"I just wondered," he continued, "how much better our lives would have been if the Republic had never fallen. If the Jedi had not been—" Luke abruptly stopped speaking and focused on the flow of traffic outside of the windows. His words had too closely begun to echo what B'Tak Katan had said for his comfort.

"I've never really thought about it," Leia acknowledged. She also turned to look out at the nighttime skyline and leaned her head against her brother's shoulder. "I was always taught that there was no point in sitting back and wishing that life could be different. One had to deal with the realities as they were. If there is a need for change, then it is up to us to strive to accomplish it."

Luke had difficulty in swallowing in reaction to her stinging words. Of course, she would have never considered anything like what he had asked. Leia dealt with the here and now. She had always been the practical one between them.

"True, but what if—somehow—events could be changed?" Luke precariously ventured. "What if you were given an opportunity—to make a difference?" He tentatively asked. "—To make sure that Palpatine was never able to establish his Empire? Would you take that offer?"

Leia stood quietly for a long moment as she seemed to contemplate the odd question. "Why are you asking me this?" She finally responded.

"Why not?" Luke's brows furrowed as he turned to her. "Would you not want to make the Galaxy a better place?"

"We've already done that, dear brother," she smiled softly.

"But to keep the evil from spreading in the first place," Luke continued to push. "So many lives could have been saved, so much suffering averted. Who knows, we may have even been able to grow up together—being part of a whole family." Luke could feel Leia stiffen as she stood next to him, though he did not fully understand why. He pulled her slightly closer to him, hoping that his offered support would give her comfort.

"No, Luke," She stated flatly and shook her head. "Even if it were possible—or _legal_—I would not want to take the risk."

"What risk?"

"Well," she began, and then paused to take a deep breath as if gathering her thoughts. "Whether I was successful or not, I doubt that I would be the same person that I am today. It was Bail who taught me the skills that I have relied upon all my life. I can't imagine what would have happened if he had not raised me. At the least, it would have been impossible to have entered the political realm without his influence."

"You are a born leader, Leia. You would have found a way."

"Bureaucratic aptitude is not a genetic trait, Luke." She tapped him lightly on his chest. "Just look at you. Your eyes glaze over every time I mention anything remotely related to the internal workings of the Senate."

Luke smiled and wrapped his hand over hers. "Good point."

"Beyond that," Leia mused. "If history were as different as you are suggesting, I doubt that I would have met many of the people that I cherished throughout my life. What if I never met Han, or experienced the joy of raising our children together?" She bit her bottom lip for a moment before continuing with her reflections. "No, despite everything that has happened, including all the tragedy that has befallen us, I would not choose to change thepast—I would not want my life to be different."

Luke turned and closely scrutinized Leia's drawn features. Her words had stunned him. He had never even contemplated such ramifications before. Now that he did… How would he feel if he never had met Mara? How could he even consider a life that would not include the experience of being a father to Ben? The mere idea should have sent a shiver down his spine—but oddly— it did not. Even more surprisingly, he believed that he knew why.

"Leia," he offered. "It is my belief that some people were just meant to be together: Han and you, Mara and me... No matter the circumstances, no matter the conditions, it was our destiny to meet each other."

"Still the idealistic dreamer..." Leia smile was bittersweet as she leaned her head against Luke's shoulder.

An unsettling pause, once again, fell between them as Luke considered his sister's comments. It began to make sense to him why the omniscient Guardian was insistent that the Temporal Ward pledge noninterference with the timeline. Did anyone have the right to alter the lives of an entire galaxy? But then again, was he not already altering lives through his actions as a Jedi?

"I received the Jedi Council's request this morning to form a coalition between the Order and the Republican military," Leia broke the silence as she changed the subject. "I made sure that the motion was presented to the Senate before the end of the day's session. I'm confident that it will pass quickly as soon as tomorrow's session convenes."

"Let's not talk shop tonight," he countered. "I—I need to ask you about something else."

"Okay." Her tone clearly radiated her trepidation with Luke's request. She guided them both back to the living room, and they settled side by side on one of the large couches. Leia reached forward to the table and then handed Luke a cup of caf as she settled back into the deep cushions with her own cup.

"A long time ago," Luke started, "I asked if you remembered our mother."

"When we were on Endor," Leia replied tentatively.

"I'm asking you again. Can you remember anything about her—anything at all?"

"Why?"

Luke nodded to the side and feigned a smile. "A project that I'm working on…"

"A project?" She questioned. "Does this have anything to do with your recent mysterious disappearance?"

Luke cringed. "Um—yes, in a way," he answered hesitantly. "Whatever you can recall about her would be a great help to me."

"Will you tell me about your project if I answer your question?"

Luke shrugged with a hint of an amused smile at his sister's antics—always the politician, he thought. "Once my work is complete," the Jedi averred, "I promise that I will divulge everything to you."

Leia narrowed her eyes and gave her brother a sidelong, scrutinizing glare. Luke could not help but feel a bit anxious by her inspection. He still wasn't sure what was bothering her, but it seemed obviously distressing.

"Okay," she eventually said. "As I told to you back then, I just had impressions about her: Beautiful, kind, and terribly sad. I'm not even sure it was our mother that I was actually remembering. It was so long ago, I may have just been thinking of Breha. She also died when I was still very young."

"What about your adoptive parents?" Luke took the lead and continued to push. "Did they ever tell you anything about our real mother? Or maybe about someone else who might have been—connected to her?" Luke had chosen his words carefully. He knew how difficult it would be to ask her anything specific about Anakin Skywalker, at least without her totally shutting down and ending the conversation completely.

Leia had resolved long ago to suppress her most painful memories of the past. Both he and Han had been concerned about her refusal to deal with her heritage, Han had gone as far as to insist that they named their youngest child Anakin—as the mind healers had suggested—to help her work past the anger and fear she held for their birth father_. _However, Luke had never been convinced that it had helped. Leia stubbornly only continued to accept Luke, and those who had raised her, as family. She refused to view their father as anything other than Darth Vader, and continued to consider him exclusively as a past enemy.

"Not directly," she finally answered with a hesitant voice.

"What do you mean?"

"Once—I believe I was only four at the time—Darth Vader had brought an occupation force to Aldera. I don't remember why...But I do remember that I got extremely angry with my father for insisting that my mother and I remain secluded in the palace. I went to confront him and found my parents in the middle of an argument. An extremely rare occurrence in my household—I had felt terribly upset about it.

"When I entered the room, my father was quite animated. That's probably why I remember the incident so well. He was saying that he would do all in his power to make sure that I was safe and protected, if for no other reason than for his promise to Padmé."

"Padmé?" Luke repeated. He couldn't remember ever hearing the name before, but it somehow sounded familiar. "Did you question him about whom she was?"

"No—not at the time. The look of shock on his face when he saw me standing in the doorway was enough to know I wouldn't receive an answer. Although, once the crisis was over, and the Imperial troops had been withdrawn, I did find a way to ask him about whom she was. He did his best to change the subject, but I wouldn't let it go."

"I can't imagine that." Luke's retort eased the mood. He even managed to entice a small smile from his sister to his comment.

"Anyway," she continued as she rolled her eyes at her brother, "he finally appeased me by telling me that she was an old acquaintance of his from the Senate. My father was a consummate politician, but he never was an exceptionally talented liar—especially to me. I knew that there was more behind their relationship, but we never spoke of it again."

"That was the end of it then?"

"Not exactly, I never forgot the name. When I was first elected to the Senate, I tried to find more information about anyone named Padmé who could have known my father. I only found one person. Padmé Naberrie Amidala. She was a former queen of the planet Naboo—"

"Naboo?" Luke broke in. Looking away, he absently stroked his beard—struck by an odd sense of familiarity at hearing the planet's name. It came to him a moment later. It was the same planet where Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi had once been assigned right before he became a Jedi Knight. He silently wondered if Ben had also known this Padmé Amidala. He felt a small hand placed gently on his arm and realized that Leia was now gazing at him with worry.

"Yes," she hesitated. "It's a small Mid-Rim planet in the Chommell sector."

Luke blinked. Why had he been so ignorant of this planet before? There seemed to be too many factors coalescing around it for all of them to be mere coincidence. He would need to investigate further—but not now. "I'm sorry I interrupted you," Luke apologized. "Please, continue with what you were saying about this—Padmé."

Without taking her concerned eyes off her brother, Leia went on. "Padmé Amidala was twice elected to the Senate around the time of the Clone Wars. She was known for her fervent love of democracy and her open opposition to then-Chancellor Palpatine's unstoppable grasps for power. She was also a member of the Delegation of 2000,along with many Senators of like mind. The survivors of the group eventually went on to form the Alliance. Whereas my father and Mon Mothma remained in the background of the organization, neither speaking out nor displaying any sign of affiliation, Padmé chose to be the spokesperson for their cause. She actually presented their doomed petition for peace to the Chancellor."

"Do you believe that she could have been our mother?" Luke held his breath in anticipation of a positive response.

"No," Leia stated with conviction. "Her political record of service was pristine, and there was not even a hint of scandal recorded. The only thing I could surmise was that she and my father had somehow discovered the identity of our birth mother. They were both notable humanitarians. I am sure that they probably wanted to help the poor woman. Knowing the possible consequences for both our mother, and to us at the time the Republic fell; they had no doubt tried to shield us from discovery and protect us from Darth Vader and the Emperor."

Luke could not help but feel a bit offended. "You make it sound as if our mother were nothing more than a victim."

"I'm sure that was the case, Luke," Leia was adamant. "You were the one who told me that Jedi from that era were not allowed to have attachments. If Vader had still been posing as a Jedi Knight when we were conceived; than our mother probably would have been a misguided ignorant girl, or an unfortunate prostitute. Either that, or she was a victim of rape—"

"Leia!" Luke pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and closed his eyes. "I just can't believe that about our mother, and neither should you."

"There is no other reasonable explanation, Luke." She was incredulous, throwing her hands up in exasperation at her brother's apparent naiveté. "You can't honestly believe that we are the result of some tragic love story between two star-cross lovers, can you?"

Luke rubbed his temples to try to dispel his growing tension. Yes, he silently realized, that was exactly the scenario that he had always wanted to believe. Even when being relentlessly pursued by the Empire all those years ago, he had somehow felt that Darth Vader had been searching for him as a son—and not just as a tool to be used to further his own twisted agenda. After all, his father's final self-sacrificing act was the ultimate act of love, was it not?

However, his sister had never agreed with his assessment, and she probably never would. There were apparently no dissuading Leia's feelings. Tainted, as they were, by her enmity toward Vader. Unwilling to fall back into an old argument, Luke realized that it was just a better option to change the subject.

"What became of Padmé Amidala?" He sighed.

"All of her actions in the Senate, though noble at the time, made her a political target. She died at about the same time as the Republic fell," Leia stated flatly.

"Did you learn anything about what happened to her?" Luke frowned.

"Officially, it was reported that she had been attacked by a group of rogue Jedi during the initial uprising." Leia took a deep breath and then exhaled it slowly before continuing. "It was my understanding that her passing was mourned across the galaxy, but I was never able to find any affidavits from an inquest or even recordings from her funeral."

"You make it sound as if there had been a conspiracy surrounding her death."

"I knew Padmé's niece, Pooja. We served in the Imperial Senate together. She was a dear friend and an immense help to me when I first conducted my research. Although Pooja was evasive when I asked her about Padmé, she told me that her family never believed the official account regarding her aunt's death. Padmé had maintained a close relationship with the Jedi. Several times during her tenure in office, one had been assigned to her as added security due to multiple assassination attempts. It made no sense to them that they would have turned against her at such a time of crisis."

"What did her family believe?" Luke questioned.

"They thought that it was Darth Vader who had killed her."

Leia's words slammed a giant weight down into Luke's heart. Despite his sister's conjecture, he had wanted to believe that this mystery woman would prove to be the needed missing link in his search. However, if her family were correct, then there was no way that his impression could be true. Even as monstrous and evil as Vader had been, Luke refused to entertain the thought that he would be capable of killing the mother of his own children.

"Luke, what's wrong?" Leia's inquiry broke him away from his thoughts."You seem so disappointed."

Luke swallowed hard. Absently smoothing down the front of his tunic, he searched his thoughts for the best way to try and explain his feelings. As his hand ran over an irregular bump, he had an idea. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the delicate hair clip he had earlier stashed away. He held it out to her and,when she extended her hand, placed it gently in her palm.

"That's interesting," she murmured. "Was this Mara's?"

"No." Luke realized that he had answered a bit too quickly. He cleared his throat as he began again. "I was hoping that you might recognize the design."

She turned the clip over several times as she examined it. "Well, it's old," she confirmed, "And it appears to have been exquisitely crafted. These gemstones, if they are authentic, make this a highly expensive piece. It also looks as though it has been through a fire. Where did you get it?"

"I found it in one of the closed sections of the Temple," Luke confessed.

Leia eyed him suspiciously but said nothing.

"I—It was hidden in one of the old dormitory rooms," Luke closed his eyes as he felt his sister's gaze intensified. "In our father's room—"

Leia dropped the clip down to the table as if it had scalded her hand. Her features hardened instantly. "Why would you even be looking in such a place?" She gasped.

"Leia," he tried to calm her, "I need to find answers. I'm looking into every way possible."

"Answers?" Her voice rose louder. "Answers from that… Monster? Luke, he may have saved your life, but one selfless act doesn't excuse all the evil he perpetrated on the rest of the galaxy."

"I know that, Leia," he snapped back at her. This conversation was going far worse than he had hoped.

"What answers could you possibly find by looking into Vader's past?"

"I'm not looking into Vader's past," he answered tersely. "I'm looking into the early life of Anakin Skywalker—"  
"Luke, they were one and the same, don't you understand that?" She spat.

"Leia, please, I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's a little late for that," she huffed.

Luke rested his elbows on his knees and brought his face to his hands. He exhaled heavily. The last thing that he had wanted was to cause her to be more upset. Despite knowing that her resentment of the man ran soul deep, she had not displayed such open hostility toward their birth father for years. There had to be an underlying cause to her uncharacteristic reaction.

Leia's eyes widened in horror as she suddenly seemed to realize her brother's assumptions. "You think this was our mother's,don't you?" She accused. "Just because that… that man had a woman's hair clip stashed away… He could have just as easily have stolen it—had you thought of that? Or… he might have taken it as a trophy from one of his victims." She shook her head violently. "Why are you doing this to me? Haven't I been hurt by Vader enough already? Why must you take up the task, where he left off?"

Luke reached out to place a concerned hand on her shoulder. "Please, Leia. I would never hurt you." He tried to calm her. "You must believe me."

"Believe you?" She spun away from his grasp as she quickly stood up and moved away. "How can I?"

Leia quickly withdrew to the back of the apartment and faced the large windows. Her entire body trembled with emotion. Although Luke could not see her face, he was sure that unbidden tears were falling down her cheeks.

"When were you going to tell me the truth about Jacen, Luke?" Leia choked out bitter words as she roughly brushed her tears away.

"W—What?" He felt as if he had just been stabbed through the heart with a lightsaber. He pulled himself up on shaky legs.

"You heard me," she growled out in fury. "Did you not think that I would find out? Were you so naively under the impression that only the Jedi had the ability to intercept and decode encrypted messages? Or were you simply waiting to reveal the truth until you had time to kill my eldest son too."

"Leia, please," he choked out his words. The room seemed to drop in temperature around him and he had difficulty drawing a breath. "I didn't want to—"

"You do know about this!" She cut him off. "I've been such a fool. I refused to believe the initial reports that I received. I just could not imagine that the Jedi would take part in a conspiracy to withhold vital information from the New Republic. I refused to believe that my own _brother_ would do the same to _me!_"

"It's not what you think," Luke stammered. " Leia, you must trust me—"

She whirled to face him, "_Trust you_?" Her face contorted in anger. "I trusted that you knew my feelings about that monster, yet you disregarded them and brought something of his into my home. I trusted you to watch over my son, yet you let him walk away from the Temple without an attempt to intervene. I trusted you to keep my family safe, yet you didn't warn them strongly enough that they were in danger." She was shaking even harder now in her vehemence. "Luke, I trusted you to honor your vows you made to the Republic. But instead of protecting the lives of innocents, you just left—to go off to who knows where—without any regard for the rest of us. In effect, your actions allowed that slaughter on Brilar to happen…"

Luke closed his eyes and said nothing as he stood in shocked silence. He willingly allowed her blistering accusations to rip apart his soul, and offered no defense against her acrid words. He already blamed himself for _every_ charge that she had leveled.

"I think you should go now, Luke." She folded her arms tightly across herself. "I—I can't speak to you any more right now. I—I can't even look at you." She turned away and rushed out of the room—disappearing down the hallway.

Luke was not sure how long he had remained motionless, but once his brain had managed to re-engage, he knew that he could not stay there any longer. He took a centering breath and raised a hand to rake shaking fingers through his hair.

"Artoo," Luke called out to the empty room. At the same time, he reached down and took the hair clip from the table before stashing it safely in his pocket. A moment later, the blue and white droid rolled through the doorway out of the kitchen and gave a short inquiring whistle.

"Ask Threepio to bring me my things," he ordered. "We're leaving."

_'~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~ * ~~ *~~' _

Sharp staccato taps from the heels of his boots echoed down the long, deserted corridor. Luke's strides quickened as he neared the door to his apartment. A brush of his hand over the control panel released the opening mechanism and he stormed into the sanctuary of his quarters. Stripping off his cloak, he flung it onto a hard-backed chair in the corner as he collapsed onto the worn brown couch in the middle of the room. As his body sank down into the padding, he propped his head on the furniture's armrest.

Draping his arm over his face, he tried to block out the light of the room as well as the thoughts that had been assaulting him ever since he had left Han and Leia's apartment. He had driven his speeder around aimlessly through the inner-city traffic lanes for hours. The more he analyzed his sister's tirade and the ramifications that could result from their confrontation, the blacker his mood became.

At least the evening had made sense to him, now. The undefined feelings of tension that he had felt from Leia from the moment he had arrived at the apartment, the ambiguous emotions that had flitted over her features, the unacknowledged changes in their relationship that it seemed they both had been trying to deny.

She blamed him—she blamed him for everything. For the tragedy on Corellia… For the upheaval in the Galaxy of late… For Jacen's disappearance… She blamed him for all the heartbreak, and turmoil that had befallen her and her family—even for the pain and suffering inflicted on the sentient beings she represented.

Worst of all, Luke sensed that her feelings would get no better. Now that she believed that he had tried to deceive her about Jacen falling to the Dark Side, he doubted there was any viable hope to repair their relationship. With a sickening understanding, he realized that he had lost his sister tonight.

He could not even blame her in her enmity, he thought morosely. Everything that she had accused him of—everything that had happened of late—was his fault. He took another deep breath as he tried to dispel some of his insurmountable guilt.

All he wanted to do right now was to find a way to make everything better. He had been good at fixing things when growing up on the farm, but life was no longer as simple as a broken vaporator.

_If he had just been able to keep Jacen from turning to the Dark Side... _

_If he had just been more persistent about his warning for their families' safety on Corellia... _

_If he could go back and just prevent his father from helping to create the Empire in the first place__...__  
_  
A strange rippling light caught his attention from the fringe of his perception. He dropped his arm and glanced over to the small dining table on the side of the room. The crystal globe that had been sent to him by the Temporal Ward sat benignly where he had placed it after his early-morning excursion through the Temple. It was currently emitting an ethereal blue incandescence. He raised a hand,and the orb swiftly floated to his palm. He narrowed his eyes as he gazed into the depths of the glowing object.

_'By now, I am sure that you have discovered that the vessel we sent to you houses more than our missive.'_B'Tak Katan's words cut through the clouds of his guilt and frustration._ 'Employ our offering well. It was created especially for you to provide the foundation on which to design your path and fulfill your destiny.'_

He closed his eyes and let his hand fall to his chest. Still gripping the orb tightly, he exhaled deeply. He was sorely in need of guidance right now. His hopes of finding a _way_ to fix all of the chaos around him were dwindling. Maybe he just needed to let go of his hesitancy and start focusing on the possibility of finding a _when_…

Luke's efforts to examine the past and _'design his own path'_ had so far left him with more frustration than answers. Maybe he had approached this task from the wrong direction. Maybe he should look for a solution the same way that the Temporal Ward's Guardian apparently had—not by searching for the beginning of the problem, but by attempting to find the last point at which it could be ultimately repaired. The final opportunity where an action could be taken that would bring the galaxy back into balance.

As he pondered the idea, he could feel the weariness of his body begin to weigh heavily upon him. He felt his thoughts begin to untangle as his mind slowly started to drift away on the soft undulating currents of the Force. He took one more deep breath, and then—there was only darkness…


	11. Chapter 11 Tipping the Scales

A/N #1: I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy.

A/N #2: This story would not be what it is without the help of my very competent beta reader, Deja Vu. Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated.

A/N #3: Some dialogue in this chapter is from both the ROTS movie as well as the Matthew Stover novelization. No copywriter infringement is intended. There just isn't any better way to write what had to be said.

A/N #4: Sorry for the longer than normal delay in posting this chapter. Darth Real Life has a way of exuding his influence over me at times. This chapter will be a longer read than most, but I hope you will enjoy it all the same. As always, reviews are appreciated.

* * *

**Chapter 11 – Tipping the Scales**

_He rubbed the grime and soot from his face once again with a soiled sleeve and blinked the sweat from his eyes. A constant roar from a source he could not discern filled his ears. He squinted against the sting of smoke as he tried to pierce through the gloom shrouding the rocky ground on which he stood. His lungs fought his every breath in protest of the noxious fumes that impregnated the sweltering air around him. The combined nine hells of Corellia could not be as hideous a place as this. He was sure of it._

_He extended his hand and leaned heavily against a large hot boulder. It pulsed with foreboding beneath his touch. He looked up into the sky, which was boiling with ominous plums of black smoke. The sun over this hellacious place was visible but appeared distant and obscure. It was as if evil itself held this world in its domain and was reaching up with fingers of venomous ash to choke the offending light from the sky. Maybe that was exactly what it was doing._

_He surmised that he must be standing in a caldera. The ground at his feet crackled and hissed. Fissures of pungent steam spewed from the depths in dangerous columns around him. Wherever this was, he could feel that it was heavily steeped with death and suffering. It reeked of the dark side. It mocked his presence and whispered his impending doom. He felt as if the entire planet was offended by his very presence and urging him to leave. He was more than willing to oblige—if he could just figure out a way to accommodate the request._

_And then he heard them—voices. They were distant and ambiguous, but he could make out some of the words—angry words._

_"She's hurt… She needs medical attention." That was a voice of reason._

_"You don't get to take her anywhere. You don't get to touch her. She's mine, do you understand?" That was a voice of hate._

_The confrontation continued, but the words between the two became garbled and unintelligible, masked behind a thickening curtain of constantly churning ash and smoke that roiled around the blackened landscape. A new sound broke sharply into the mix. He could hear the distinctive buzz and clash of lightsabers. He pulled away from the boulder and stumbled forward. He had to find them—or at least find the woman who was injured. Maybe he could help._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_His own breath caught as the recognizable sound of mechanical breathing erupted around him. "Great," he mumbled sarcastically. His words were barely audible over the hiss of steam. "Just what I needed."_

_As if on cue, a dark shadow crested the jagged ridge. The ominous figure of Darth Vader rose from the landscape—as if he was born of the black sands themselves—and loomed above him. All the menace and danger existing in the galaxy seemed to be housed within the monster's obsidian armor. He could do nothing more than stare blankly as the Sith Lord unclipped his lightsaber and ignited his blood-red blade._

_"Fine," he murmured in resignation. "It's over." He closed his eyes and, with an odd sense of detachment, waited for the fatal stroke—a single blow that would put an end to his misery. His body was ready to surrender; his heart no longer had the capacity to hope. He was prepared to embrace the soothing caress of the Force._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_The strike did not come. Opening his eyes, he looked up to see his assumed executioner towering above him. Intrigued, he reached out with the Force, yet he could feel nothing from the enigma before him. If it was not for Vader's standing in his direct vision, he would not know the man was here._

_"Come," Vader ordered with his mechanical baritone. The shadow before him turned away with a flourish of his ebony cape. Vader held his lightsaber high to cut into the encroaching gloom and began climbing back up over the ridge._

_Sitting a moment longer, he contemplated his next move—then obediently rose and simply followed as ordered._

_He walked—or, more accurately, stumbled—among the rocks and loose sand for an indeterminate amount of time. If anything, the terrain worsened. The ground grew more brittle, the excruciating heat rose, and the choking fumes thickened. As they crested a hill, Vader extended the blade of his lightsaber to block his path._

_He looked up into the soulless lenses of the black mask and knew that he had locked eyes with the man within the armor, but still, no emotion passed between them. The Dark Lord silently turned his helm forward. He felt compelled to do the same, and then he saw them._

_Two warriors. Though they were far below where he stood and obscured by swirling reddened mists, he could clearly see that they were engaged in mortal combat. Their blue-bladed lightsabers were no more than blurs caused by the speed and flourish of their deadly dance. They stood toe-to-toe on a small transport as it bobbed and floated over a raging river of molten lava—until one of the men somersaulted backward to a low cliff above a steep bar of black sand._

_"It's over, Anakin. I have the high ground." This was the reasonable man whose voice he had heard before._

_"You underestimate my power!" The hate that corrupted the other man's voice before seemed only to have intensified in his current reply._

_It was then, in that shattering instant, with nauseating recognition, that he knew who these men were. The voice of sanity and the voice of madness; a man of compassion and a man of malevolence; the calm Jedi and the irrational Sith; his first mentor and the father he never knew... He thought he was going to be sick._

_"Don't try it." The man he now recognized as Obi-Wan Kenobi made one last attempt at reason. Even as he heard the Jedi Master's words, he sensed that the desperate plea was doomed for failure._

_He was locked in place as he watched the events unfold from his vantage point. His gut wrenched in horror as he realized what was about to happen. With all the recklessness and arrogance privy to a man intoxicated with his own power, the young vibrant figure that should have been his father gathered himself and then leapt in a futile attempt to deliver a killing blow from above. And w__ith mind-numbing distress, he watched the man on the cliff use the only defense of such a move that he could—slashing through the limbs of his attacker as he did so. _

_In shock, he saw severed appendages fall into the fiery river and instantly combust. He watched the amputated torso of his father land, hard and ungainly, onto the blackened ground and start sliding down the skittering sand. He witnessed his father's remaining arm clawing desperately to stop his descent as he raged in anger and pain. __Instinctively, he went to move forward and felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder in a vice grip. He could do nothing but observe._

_" . . . You were the Chosen One! It was said that you would destroy the Sith, not join them. It was you who would bring balance to the Force, not leave it in Darkness." The figure on the cliff reached down and picked up something that had lain at his feet before he stood and began to slowly walk away. __Although he was too far away to make a clear identification, he was sure that the object the battle-weary Jedi had recovered from the blackened sands was his father's lightsaber._

_Choking back tears, he remembered the first time he had seen that same gleaming shaft of metal. When Ben had set it into his hands, he had told him: "Your father wanted you to this when you were old enough." Those words had been inspiring to an impressionable teenager. He now realized with a perverse sense of irony that Ben had possessed no actual justification for that gift—other than whatever convoluted point of view the stricken Jedi's guilt-ridden mind had managed to manufacture._

_Nearly out of sight, the demoralized Jedi stopped once more and turned back to the human wreckage that grappled on the scorching sand. "You were my brother, Anakin," the heartbroken words Obi-Wan voiced were barely more than sobs. "I loved you."_

_"I hate you!" the half man that remained of his father shrieked with all the malice and loathing a single creature could manifest._

_And then—when he had thought that these witnessed events could get no worse, they did. The ruins of his father slipped once more—inching just close enough to the riverbank... In an explosion of flame, his father's clothing ignited. His hair followed, and then his flesh._

_Unable to watch the scene any longer, he clenched his eyes to block the sight and turned away from the conflagration. He could not, however, block out the screams._

_He was trembling violently. Not sure how much longer his legs would hold him. Not sure how much longer he cared. When the anguished cries of suffering had finally faded, the air around him filled with another threatening sound._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_He felt the vice-hard grip on his shoulder tighten and realized that his body was being twisted back to face the mechanical behemoth that had risen from the horrors he had just witnessed. He turned numbly. Opening his eyes, he raised his head to the mask that towered above him._

_"This place," the Dark Lord rumbled. "This time." Vader extinguished the blade of his lightsaber and reversed the grip in his hand. He proffered the hilt of his weapon. "You already know the right thing to do."_

_And in that instant, as perverted and morally abhorrent as the insinuated act would be, he knew exactly what he had to do. Hesitantly, he closed his eyes and reached out and grasped the offending object. The moment his hand closed around the hilt, the earth lurch beneath his feet. His stomach dropped as he felt an immediate sense of unbalance. He tried to steady himself by throwing out his arms. His feet slid on loose gravel, and the air around him surged with intolerable heat._

_He opened his eyes and, in shocked horror, realized he was no longer standing on the solid stone of the distant ridge. Nor was there any evidence of the enigmatic form of Darth Vader. Instead, his boots were smoldering as they sank into the burning black sand of the steep riverbank. Next to him flowed the churning waves of emolliated, burning rock. And before him, the charred, gruesome remains of his…_

_Unbelievably, there was still movement from what all logic told him should have been nothing more than a corpse. In frozen fascination, he watched as a scorched mechanical arm ever so slowly and methodically scrabbled through the super-heated sand to pull away from the lava river. He listened with revulsion to the guttural, animalistic wheezes that emanated from the ruined being. Through the Force, he could sense unimaginable pain, in addition to indomitable anger and hate, being broadcasted by the human wreckage at his feet. Beyond all reason, those dark emotions seemed the only thing be keeping this creature clinging to life._

_A mix of pity and disgust filled him. He realized that this destroyed being who lay before him no longer had the right to be considered his father. This was not the disobedient, reckless boy with a propensity for fistfights and daredevil acts who he had uncovered through the Temple's disciplinary notations; nor the heroic Jedi warrior whose bold actions in the field he had read about in varied tabloid articles; or even the secretive young man whose hidden stash of treasures he had discovered during his impromptu early morning excursion. __That man had already been cast aside. What remained was a wasted, broken, empty shell. If allowed to continue to exist, this vassal of evil would be filled with utter darkness. It would be unleashed upon the galaxy to spread terror and destruction—commiting atrocities that would cause pain and heartache for generations to come. He would not let that happen—not again._

_Tears welled in his eyes. It was time to end this—to prevent a future filled with suffering. He justified his decision by his belief that he would not prolong the unfathomable pain he was witnessing, would not deny this being the mercy of release. But in the end—it didn't really matter. With resolute determination, he tightened his grip on Vader's lightsaber and brought it thrumming to life. Raising it above his head, he closed his eyes and brought the blade down in a deadly arc._

***

"Luke!"

Feeling two hands clamped tightly down on his biceps, Luke thrashed wildly, trying to release himself from the offending restraint.

"Luke, calm down!" a familiar voice above him urgently pleaded. "It's me, Kyp."

Luke fought his sense of panic and tried to still his body. He was able to control the actions of his limbs, but he could not cease his trembling. Opening his eyes, he strained to bring the looming face of the dark-haired man hovering above him into focus.

"Kyp?" he mouthed the words numbly. Comprehending the expression on the younger man's face as bewilderment and concern, Luke strained to bring himself up to a sitting position. His body was chilled and exhausted, the beats of his racing heart throbbing loudly in his head. He could feel his cheeks were damp from a mix of perspiration and tears that had flown unbidden. He quickly rubbed the sleeve of his tunic over his face to dispel them.

"Are you all right?" Kyp's tone was wary, and he kept one of his hands on his friend's shoulder to help support him.

Luke nodded assent, not yet fully trusting his voice. He leaned forward and scrubbed his face with his hands in an attempt to dispel the horrific imagery that seemed to have been emblazoned into his mind. Swallowing hard, he tried to overcome the sense of nausea that threatened even now to overtake him.

"What are you doing here?" Luke choked out the words.

"I could ask the same of you," Kyp returned.

"These are my quarters," Luke growled in annoyance.

"Yes," Kyp agreed, "but when did you take to sleeping on your living room couch rather than your own bed?"

Luke closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. "I had a lot on my mind when I got back last night…"

Kyp's mouth tightened in a deepening frown, but he withheld comment.

"You still haven't told me why you are here."

"When you didn't answer your comlink, the others sent me," Kyp stated evenly. "We were worried that you did not come this morning."

"Come?" Luke furrowed his brow and looked vacantly into the other man's eyes. In an instant, reality returned. "The Council Session..."

"Has already begun," Kyp interrupted.

Luke struggled to stand. Kyp reached out and took hold of his friend's elbow to help support him as the blond man wavered unsteadily on his feet.

"Go get cleaned up," Kyp suggested. "I will inform the Council that we will arrive soon."

Luke nodded and began to stumble toward the fresher. His mind was still reeling. He only hoped that a quick shower and change of clothes would give him enough time for his faculties to fully return.

Kyp watched as his friend made his way out of the room. He bit his lip in pensive contemplation. In all the years that he had known Luke Skywalker, he had never seen him in such an unraveled state. So lost, so disoriented, so totally—shattered…

His concern was not only for his friend's health, however. This was no time for the leader of the Jedi Order to be anything but fully competent. Despite the resistance he knew he would receive, he was going to have to recommend that Luke submit to at least a physical examination by a Healer, though what concerned him most was not an ailment of the man's body but of his mind.

Pulling away from his thoughts, he glanced down to the disheveled couch where he had found his friend as he flailed in the throes of what had appeared to be some type of nightmare. The dark-haired Jedi frowned as he caught sight of an object that had fallen partially between the back cushions. He reached over and picked up a blue orb. Noting that the crystal ball was surprisingly warm to the touch, he held it up to better examine it. He recognized that it was the same globe delivered to Luke by a young initiate a month or so back. Kyp's eyes narrowed as his vision went from the item in his hand to the closed door of the fresher. He mildly wondered what possible significance this object held for his friend, and if it had anything to do with Luke's unbalanced state...

***

Luke paced incessantly around the sterile, sheet-covered table centered in the small room. He continued to chew worriedly on his bottom lip, his arms crossed tightly against his chest. He had never dealt well with confinement—the fact that he had been remanded to an exam room in the Temple's Healer Ward rather than a detention cell was of little consolation.

He was uncomfortably cold and felt half naked. The fact that he was bootless—parading around only in his stockinged feet—and wore just his sleeveless undershirt and uniform pants was only part of the issue. The intense scrutiny that he had just endured—first from the Council and then from Master Cilghal—was doing a far superior job of leaving him feeling utterly exposed.

He had no one to blame for his situation but himself. He should have been more conscientious of the fragile control he had on his emotions. He knew that he had been substantially affected by the disturbing revelations of his most recent vision, and yet, he had left himself vulnerable. But—what was done was done.

Luke continued to pace as centered his thoughts on the reason for his current predicament. When he had finally made his way to the lofty Council chamber, the session had just ended. Word had been received that the coalition with Republican forces had been approved by the Senate. With that final detail falling into place, the Council was ready to proceed with their plans. Luke had previously excluded himself from direct involvement in the Council's dealings with the Sith threat due to his ties to Jacen—but out of deference to his position, his fellow Masters informed him of their intentions. Master Hamner's investigation had gone amazingly well. He had discovered irrefutable proof that Jacen's apostate armada was hiding in the Maw Cluster. The Council had decided that this opportunity to confront the Sith and quickly contain the situation before there was time to truly gain a foothold in the galaxy was too enticing to ignore.

Luke's spirits should have been boosted by all that Master Hamner had uncovered. But his reaction had been quite the opposite. Everything within him screamed a warning. The investigation had gone too well—evidence had been too easily discovered—a course of action had been too blatantly apparent... The more he heard, the greater his sense of foreboding grew. This was a trap—a trail of breadcrumbs expertly laid out to ensnare both the Jedi and Republic into an un-winnable situation. With crystal clarity, Luke could envision that the Council's pending actions would be suicidal for both them and the Galaxy at large. No one had anticipated Luke's reaction to the news—not even himself.

Unable to hold back his concerns, Luke had felt pressed to try and dissuade the Council from their rush to action. He recited the near catastrophic lessons of Endor. He referenced his experiences in running Vader's gauntlet of devious traps. He detailed his finding from the Archives—how he had discovered an undeniable pattern of subterfuge and deception employed consistently by the Sith against their enemies. In hindsight, Luke realized that he had allowed his frustrations to get the better of him and turn his words from calm pleas of caution into a fiery rant of accusation. When Kyp had interrupted his tirade with an uncharacteristic rebuke, it had stopped him cold and made him come to his senses. It also made him realize the folly of his actions. As he had scanned the room to view his fellow Masters, he saw only sadness and empathy in their eyes. They had not even been listening to his words.

It was no wonder that the Council had concurred with the Deyerian Jedi and suggested that Master Cilghal escort him here to the Healer's Ward. Listening to his friend's detailed account of his recent disconcerting behavior, he realized that if he had heard those condemning assessments about any other Jedi, he would have had no choice but to come to the same conclusion. Still, he could not keep himself from bristling at a stinging sense of personal betrayal by a trusted friend.

He had left the Council chambers without protest. He had followed the Mon Calamari healer through the Temple as if in a trance. He had numbly submitted to all the tests required of him, and now he waited for Cilghal's return. Waited to hear what results she had uncovered of both his physical and mental state; waited to learn what was to be done with him.

And while he waited and paced his life away, he knew that his Jedi brethrenwere making good on their plans. More than half the Jedi Order would be part of this coalition force. They would rendezvous with the Republican fleet and then jump to the Maw Cluster—and to their ultimate doom.

Worst of all, Luke could do nothing to prevent it. There was no way to reach Jacen first. No opportunity to bring his nephew back to the light. No way to prevent the outbreak of war… The stage was set. It would take no more than five days for the fleet to assemble and plans to be finalized. And then the campaign that would rip the galaxy apart would begin.

Even more devastating then the impending carnage was what would soon happen to the remnants of his family. If the Jedi were successful in bringing Darth Caedus to his end, Luke was certain that both Han and Leia would not be far behind. Han was already in a fragile state, and Leia had suffered so much as well. This would be the final blow for both of them. He was sure of it.

Luke could not help but to think of the one course of action that would solve all of these problems—or the fact that his early morning vision had revealed to him that he would be capable of performing what needed to be done. Although, by accepting this mandate, he could not help but feel a sense of trepidation and guilt weighing heavily upon his heart. If Kyp had not interrupted him and pulled him back to consciousness, would he have followed through with the act he was about to commit? Although he had not been able to bring himself to kill his father on the deck in the Death Star over a quarter of a century ago, could he destroy a monster before he was made?

Yes, he could! His prophetic actions had already assured him of that fact. With an odd sense of the inescapable, he realized that he once again stood on the precipice of the same decision that had haunted him a lifetime ago. Then, he had been asked to commit this heinous act by the last two members of the Old Jedi Council—had been told at the time that it was his destiny—yet he had refused to follow that path. Now, however, he held none of the same reservations. He had seen too much death—experienced too much pain. If this truly was his destiny—to act upon the last opportunity to return the galaxy to its proper course—then so be it. For the souls of the billions who agonized under the tyrannical Empire—for the memory of his beautiful wife and his precious son—for the prevention of all the suffering ultimately caused as a result of one man who was too weak to control his own dark desires…

Luke could feel his anger begin swell to within him. He was angry at the Council for not listening to him. He was angry at himself for not being able to control his own irrational outburst. But most of all, he was angry at the apparent root cause of all the disarray and madness that had become the norm in the galaxy. He was angry with his father.

He stopped his pacing and ran a hand over his bearded chin. There was no point in wasting time and energy dwelling on dangerous emotions. He needed to focus on the positive—focus on his next actions—focus on the one solution that would repair… everything.

Set with grim determination, Luke hopped back up on the sheet-draped table and reclined. He closed his eyes and began to concentrate on pursuing the logistics of accepting the Temporal Ward's offer. Yes, it meant he would be breaking galactic law and setting aside many beliefs that he held dear—but there wasn't another feasible plan left to him. Besides, there was no longer anything to keep him here in this twisted galaxy. He had nothing left to lose.

He exhaled deeply as he cleared his thoughts. It would take four days to get back to Agnostos. If he left now, that would give him mere hours to spare before the Jedi initiated their offensive in the Maw Cluster. Of course, depending on how long he would be required to remain under the watchful eye of Master Cilghal, his very departure could prove to be quite a difficult task in itself.

But still, he acknowledged he faced an even greater stumbling block—a lack of information. His vision had shown the how as well as the when, but he did not know the planet had he been on? It was obviously volcanic. How would he locate it? There were thousands of possibilities. Knowing the Force would help him identify the correct one, he still needed to know where to start looking.

The only unfamiliar planet of which he had become recently aware was Naboo. Although he did not believe that this was the location, something within him kept whispering to pursue knowledge of this world. As soon as he was released, he would go to the Archive and look up Naboo—and while he was there, he would also look for what information remained regarding Padmé Amidala.

A ripple through the Force warned him that Master Cilghal was returning to his room. He exhaled deeply in anticipation of the diagnoses she was about to give.

When the Mon Calamari healer entered, she found her patient lying sedately on the examination table. She could not help but be pleased. His composed aura was a definite improvement from when she had left him.

"Well?" Luke inquired. "What did you find?" He remained prone on the table and had not moved or opened his eyes.

Cilghal glanced down at the datapad she held as she spoke. "Other than a mild case of dehydration, physiological symptoms concurrent with an ongoing state of exhaustion, and a slight imbalance in certain enzyme levels confirming that you have been experiencing a great deal of stress recently," the Healer raised her large, watery eyes to gaze upon her patient, "you'll live."

"Does that mean that you will not be relieving me from my duties?" he asked coolly.

Cilghal tipped her head to the side. "We were simply concerned, Luke. You must admit, your conduct was… uncharacteristic." She sighed heavily. "The Jedi need their Grand Master. There is not one among the Council, or the Order itself for that matter, who believes that our leader could be anyone other than you."

After a moment longer of quiet contemplation, Luke pulled himself up and turned so his legs dangled off the side of the table. He looked piercingly into his long-time friend's aquatic features. "Then are you releasing me?"

Cilghal looked away guiltily. "Where would you go if I did so?"

Realizing that he was still under the healer's scrutiny, Luke stiffened. Clenching his jaw tight enough that his cheek muscles could be seen rippling beneath his beard, he continued warily. "I would like to go down to the Archives."

"That would not be wise." She dropped her head and exhaled heavily. "You need rest, Luke. I would prefer to give you a sedative and have you agree to stay here while it took effect."

"Not likely," he smiled bitterly.

"I know." The smile that graced Cilghal's thin lips was far more sincere. "But you must give me some credit for trying." She moved to the side of the room and unlocked a large cabinet above a worktable. "I would, however, entertain a compromise."

Luke dropped his head and exhaled heavily; releasing what frustration he could into the Force. This was his friend, after all. She was just trying to help.

"If you don't mind my asking," she continued, "what holds your interest in the Archives this time?"

"I need to investigate a planet…" he admitted warily, "a planet called Naboo."

"Naboo?" Cilghal's answer echoed her surprise. She turned slowly to face him and cocked her head in an inquisitive manner. "Why would you choose to look into the home world of the ex-Emperor?"

"Palpatine was from Naboo?" Luke was astonished he had never known that fact.

"Yes, he was," Cilghal confirmed, "although that distinction was hardly a boon for either the planet or its people."

"It sounds as if you know of this world."

"Yes, I went there on one occasion… during the Clone Wars," she admitted. "The Separatists staged several invasion attempts on the planet, and I was stationed there for a time after one of the more devastating ones to help with the clean-up and re-settlement efforts."

"Do you remember if the planet had any regions that were actively volcanic?" he ventured.

"Oh, no, not at all," Cilghal shook her large bulbous head. "Naboo was once a true jewel of the Republic—unspoiled in many respects."

"You make it sound like the planet you visited no longer exists."

"It doesn't," she confirmed, "at least not as it was when I was there." The Mon Calamari's eyes became hooded and dark as she dropped her head and slowly shook it in sadness. "The native sentients of Naboo, both humans and the amphibious Gungans, were known for their love of freedom and democracy. Soon after the Empire was established, the populace of the planet tried to rebel. The Emperor was not amused."

"I take it that Palpatine sent Darth Vader to bring Naboo back in line?" Luke dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his eyes. He had become quite accustomed to hearing the horror stories regarding the atrocities perpetrated by his father, although he wasn't sure he wanted to listen to anything new.

"No… For some reason, the Emperor chose to deal with the planet himself." Cilghal moved away from the worktable and closed her eyes as she painfully recalled the events that had been relayed to her years before. "His armies razed the major cities and defoliated most of the swamps and farmlands. If it were not for continuing assistance from the galactic relief agencies, I doubt that planet would be inhabitable—even now."

"How do you know all this?" Luke furrowed his brow.

"Healers hear many things while performing their duties." She tipped her head to the side, before moving back to the worktable and beginning to look over a variety of medications housed in the cabinets secured above it. "It also helps to have several Gungan acquaintances."

Now intrigued by his friend's unanticipated wealth of knowledge, he continued to pursue his questions. "Did you ever hear anything of a Senator named Amidala?"

"Padmé?" Cilghal turned sharply to re-focus on her patient.

Gauging the Mon Calamari's reaction, Luke's spirits immediately lifted. He tilted his head to the side slightly as he realized that, once again, his old friend had become a valuable resource due to her seemingly boundless wealth of life experiences.

In preparing to ask his next question, it suddenly dawned on him that when talking to Leia, he had simply assumed that Senator Amidala had been human. But now, he wasn't altogether sure. "It sounds like you knew her too. Was she one of your Gungan friends?"

"No, no," the Jedi healer again shook her head and regained her composure. "She was quite human. In fact, I believe that you would have considered her to be very beautiful—your sister reminds me a great deal of her..."

"You met her?"

"Yes," she paused, "when I was stationed on Naboo. She had volunteered her service and was part of the relief effort. Despite her station, she held no aversion to hard or difficult work. She was truly a great humanitarian—at least, from what I can remember." She turned away and again began fussing with the items in the medicine cabinet.

"…What a pity to lose such an exceptional person like her in so terrible a manner," Cilghal's words were barely audible.

Luke immediately caught her offhanded comment. "In what manner?"

Hearing Luke's question, the Mon Calamari's shoulders stiffened. Hesitating a moment more, she turned slightly to appraise him with her large watery eyes. "Nothing, Luke," she quietly murmured. "I should not have spoken aloud."

"Cilghal," he urged softly. "If you know the details surrounding her death, please tell me."

"I'm sorry, but I cannot." She turned away from him again. "What I know was told to me in the strictest confidence by another healer. I cannot speak of what was said to me. It would be against my ethics."

"You know that I respect you, Master Cilghal," Luke entreated. "But I wouldn't ask if it was not important."

Cilghal dropped her head and leaned heavily against the worktable.

"If you tell me what you can," Luke offered, "I would be willing to promise not to go to the Archives." He smiled disarmingly.

She turned and narrowed her eyes to look at him suspiciously. "You would accept a sedative and stay here to rest?"

Luke thought for a moment. "I would agree to go back to my quarters."

"You drive a hard bargain, Grand Master Jedi," Cilghal nodded her head as she pressed a button on the communications panel next to the worktable.

"Only when properly motivated, Master Healer." His smile returned—far more genuine this time.

"I cannot reveal much, I'm afraid," she began tentatively, "only that my friend was assigned as a medic on a small Corvette that was part of the Alderaanian Royal fleet. He was on board when they rendezvoused with another ship on a remote medical space station. That ship was transporting the injured Senator. She did not survive long after they arrived."

Luke could feel that the Mon Calamari knew far more about that encounter than what she was willing to say. He also knew that, no matter how hard he pushed, she would tell him no more. He turned away and looked blankly at the far wall. There was something else to be learned from this conversation—he could feel it. A growing sense within told him to pursue his quest in a different direction.

"You said that they met the other ship at the medical station," Luke queried. "Did your friend tell you from where that ship had come?"

Cilghal closed her eyes as she dropped her head in a moment of deep contemplation. "If I remember correctly," she paused. "I believe he said that they had traveled from Mustafar."

Mustafar!

At hearing the word, it was as if a thermal detonator had gone off in his head. Luke clenched his fists until his knuckles went white and fought desperately to suppress the shudder that threatened to resonate through his entire body. Images of the hellish world returned with veracity to assault his mind. Mustafar. That was where the events he had envisioned had happened. He was sure of it.

Luke had his answers. The final piece to lead him on his path was now in place. He needed no confirmation other than what he felt through the Force. On Mustafar, he would find the fulcrum, the pivot point, the last fail safe measure that would ensure the correction needed to return the galaxy to its proper destiny…

The sharp pain in his shoulder brought Luke abruptly out of his reverie. "Ow!" He reached up and rubbed his arm as he noted with widening eyes that Master Cilghal had moved to stand beside him—an empty hypodermic syringe held tightly in her webbed hand. "What was that?" he demanded.

"The sedative you agreed to," she replied evenly.

"I agreed to no such thing," he averred indignantly.

"Oh… Really?" The Mon Calamari's thin lips curled in a demure smile. "I must have misunderstood."

"Cilghal, how could you?" he groused as he continued to rub his arm.

"It is for your own good, Luke." She moved away and placed the empty syringe in the recycling bin next to the worktable. Picking up the Grand Master's boots from the corner of the room, she fluidly moved back to her patient to hand them to him. He snatched them away from her as he thrust first one foot and then the other into them.

"Besides," she continued in a conversational tone, "if I were you, I would concern myself with getting back to your apartment under your own power while you still can."

He stilled. "How long before the sedative you gave me takes effect?"

"Under normal circumstances, I would say twenty minutes," she estimated. "However, knowing how exhausted you are… I wouldn't dawdle."

He growled under his breath as he grabbed his uniform tunic and quickly began putting it on. "And how long will it put me out?"

"I don't expect to see you out of your apartment for the next two days."

"TWO DAYS!" he whined.

The Master Healer looked away, trying to suppress a look of smug satisfaction which threatened to cross over her features. "Maybe three…"

Luke's mouth fell open in astonishment. Recovering quickly, his eyes narrowed, and he was just about to express his displeasure when he noted the somewhat familiar frame of a youngling enter the room.

"Initiate Zarms," Cilghal turned to address the boy. "Please escort the Grand Master back to his quarters." She stood at her full, intimidating height and looked back to Luke, her watery eyes hardening ever so slightly. "And do make sure that he does not make any unplanned detours along the way."

The boy physically paled. "Y—yes, Master Cilghal."

***

It took ten minutes to make his way back to his apartment. Over half that time he spent fuming over Cilghal's treachery. Then, realizing he needed to come up with a plan to leave the Temple while he still remained somewhat coherent, he had tried to make better use of the last part of his trek.

Whatever was in the foul concoction that the devious Mon Calamari had contrived, it must have contained some type of Force-inhibiting drug. He was having no success whatsoever in his efforts to filter its influence out of his system. Worse, the Master Healer had also apparently sorely underestimated Luke's level of exhaustion. He was already beginning to feel rather woozy from the effect of the sedative as he stalked down the last hallway. He palmed the door control and began to enter his cell when he remembered the youngling who had been tagging behind him the whole way. Turning to the boy and looking into his flushed, freckled face, Luke finally remembered where he had seen the lad before.

"You're Caleb, correct?" Luke pointed a finger at the boy.

"Yes, Grand Master…sir." The boy's smile broke widely across his face at Luke's apparent recognition of him.

"Weren't you assigned to front desk duty?"

The boy dropped his head, and his face reddened noticeably. "I—I was, sir," he stammered. "But Master Durron felt I needed to work on my skills of—observation… I was re-assigned to the Healer's Ward."

"Ah, I see," Luke nodded. "Well, you have done a fine job with this assignment. You may return to Master Cilghal and report that you have completed your task."

"Um," the boy shifted nervously. "I think I should probably stay here in the hall for a while, sir… Just for a bit, anyway."

Luke frowned. Yes, he did remember how the Mon Calamari had taken the boy aside while he finished getting dressed. She had no doubt instructed him to make sure that Luke did not immediately leave again as soon as the boy had turned the corner. Well, so much for plan A.

"That will be fine, Caleb," Luke reached out and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder as he wavered ever so slightly. "Don't worry, I promise you that I will not attempt to leave my apartment by this door."

The youngling looked up, his face beaming with another broad smile. "Thank you for understanding, sir," he blurted out. "Have a good rest."

Luke leaned against the interior wall as the door to his apartment slid shut. He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, feeling the numbing effects of the sedative robbing him of clarity. He reached down to his belt and pulled out his comlink, keying in the appropriate code.

"Artoo, are you there?" he began. "I need your help."

He was quickly rewarded with a series of beeps and whistles.

"Great," Luke smiled. "First, I need you to plug into the Archival computer system and pull everything you can about a planet called Mustafar…"

The little droid's long whistled response was puzzling, but Luke had little time to deal with that now—so he simply ignored the interruption.

"Then I need you to fire up my X-wing," he continued. "Bring it out to the western exterior of the Temple. Lock onto my comlink signal so you can find me."

To say that the blast of electronic sound on the other end seemed confused was an understatement.

"Please, Artoo, just do it," he implored. "And hurry, there's not much time."

The transmission light on his comlink winked out, and Luke retrieved his travel cloak. Making his way through the apartment, he stopped only a moment near the couch to pick up the blue crystal orb that sat on the side table. He then quickly continued on his way to his bedroom.

***

Sitting on the exterior ledge of his bedroom window, Luke reflected that it seemed as if it was a lifetime ago since he had been inclined to sneak out of his own room. The last time was back on Tatooine when he was fourteen. Then, he had done so to meet his friends at Tosche Station. He smiled hazily at the memory—not wanting to dwell too much on the repercussions that his actions had caused when his Uncle had discovered what he had done. He wondered now what repercussions awaited him from his actions this time. The stakes were far higher than just irritating his rather short-fused guardian.

Feeling his eyelids growing exceedingly heavy, he took another deep breath. A rush of warm air caught his attention. He looked below him to see his transportation had arrived. The X-Wing fighter's transparisteel cockpit cover was pulled completely back in anticipation of receiving its pilot. From his secured socket on the hull, Artoo whistled excitedly to alert Luke that it was time to leave.

Holding on to the side of the window to help steady himself as he rose, Luke stood silently for one moment longer—realizing with a sense of finality that this would be his last opportunity to turn back. He shook his head to dismiss the notion.

Closing his eyes and taking another deep breath, he pulled to himself what remaining tendrils of the Force he could still grasp before committing to this one definitive act. Centering his balance, he leapt from the building and landed—only slightly off his planned target—onto the wing of his ship. Grabbing onto the sides of the cockpit, he quickly hoisted himself down onto the padded seat.

"Get us out of here, Artoo," he commanded as he exchanged the small haversack he had brought with him for the flight helmet stowed under his seat. By the time he had finished strapping into his web harness, they were about to break orbit.

Sinking down further into this seat, Luke's barely functioning mind told him he was in no shape to pilot. "Artoo," he called back to his mechanical companion. "I'm going to be out of it for a while. You need to set our coordinates and take over for me."

A muffled blast of electronic beeps came from behind him as a message scrolled over his view screen. Luke tried to focus his blurry eyes on Artoo's question. "No, we're not going to Mustafar—not yet," he answered. "Set course for Agnostos, and get us there as quickly as possible."

Luke was unsure if he actually heard Artoo's response, but he trusted that he would be safe in the little droid's care. He finally began to loosen the vice grip on his consciousness that he had zealously held. He could feel waves of chemically-induced sleep swamping both his body and his mind.

With surreal detachment, he realized that regardless of whether he succeeded or failed in his planned mission, he would never again see the same Coruscant he was leaving behind. Oddly, he found himself at peace with that thought. What he was choosing to do was the only option to save the galaxy itself. No matter the personal cost, he had to believe that he was making the right choice.


	12. Chapter 12 No Turning Back

A/N #1: I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy.

A/N #2: This story would not be what it is without the help of my very competent beta reader, Deja Vu. Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated.

A/N #3: Thank you, again to everyone who has taken the time to review this story. I really do enjoy receiving your comments.

* * *

**Chapter 12 – No Turning Back**

Luke hunkered down tightly against the durasteel hull as he crouched precariously on the wing of his X-wing fighter. He tried to find even a small bit of protection against the blustering icy wind that was assaulting him. With one hand, he adjusted his grip on the hood of his cloak to prevent the warm fabric from being ripped away by incessant gusts. His other hand lay gently on the chrome top of his beloved astromech droid.

"Please, Artoo," he implored. "Don't make this any harder than it already is."

The shrill tirade of beeps and whistles could hardly be heard over the howling wind whipping around them.

"I know that you want to help, but you can't go where I'm headed," he explained once more. "What I need from you now is to deliver my message to Kyp and the rest of the Council," he cleared his throat uncomfortably, "…and besides, if I don't succeed, they will need my ship—_and the best droid in the galaxy_—to help them in their efforts."

Luke dropped his head in response to the mournful tone emitted by his little friend.

"I know, Artoo." He swallowed down the lump that had risen in his throat. "I'll miss you too."

Although his mission was urgent—and the task that lay ahead disquieting—Luke could not help but be thankful for this last opportunity to travel together. It had been the two of them, alone, casting through the cold vastness of space as they had done on so many other occasions. Luke only regretted that their voyage had passed by far too quickly for his taste. He had trusted Artoo to get them here safely. And as always, the little droid had not let him down—Artoo had done most of the piloting necessary to get them to Agnostos. Luke had only awakened from his chemically-induced sleep a mere ten hours ago during the last refueling stop.

During the portion of the trip that he was conscious, Luke had spent his time perusing the information Artoo had collected regarding Mustafar. Once again, he had marveled at the little droid's resourcefulness. Luke was positive that Artoo had accessed data from more than just the Jedi Archives, but there was no time to pursue the issue. The most valuable information came from a classified briefing originating from GAR Intelligence. There were several surveillance reports in the briefing which detailed how the Separatist leaders had been gathering at a mining facility on the planet. It was date stamped a few days before the birth of the Empire—before the fall of the Jedi and the chaos of the Purges.

That information had given Luke what he had needed—the reason why his father, or apparently Darth Vader by that time, and Obi-Wan had been on the planet in the first place. Both the Jedi and the Sith would have been after the Separatist leaders—and though their fate would have been extremely different depending who had arrived on the planet first, the result would have been the same: The end of the Clone Wars. Due to the fact that there had never been a record of what became of the Separatist Council, Luke pretty much guessed that the Sith had dispatched them. Had Vader also set a trap to draw his former Jedi Master to his doom? Was Obi-Wan to be the first causality of the Purges? Whether that had been the plan or not, their fateful meeting had apparently had not gone at all as Vader had desired.

All speculation aside, with the information gleaned from the Clone Intelligence report—what truly mattered was that Luke now knew a place and a time where Darth Vader would be the most vulnerable. How much time would remain to deal with Palpatine before he could orchestrate the fall of the Republic, there was no way for Luke to know for certain. The Jedi of the Old Order would need to deal with that situation. Through his vision, the Force had shown him the last opportunity to repair the galaxy's destiny. Luke would have to hope that everything else would fall into place.

A sharp gust of icy wind brought Luke's thoughts back to refocus on the current situation. Running his hand slowly down the little droid's cylindrical body, Luke paused momentarily next to the astromech's photo sensor.

"Take care, Artoo," he beseeched as he patted the cold metal body of the droid and feigned a tight smile.

Luke rose to his feet and hopped off the wing of his ship to the rocky ground that made up the coarse landing pad which was hewn into the side of the mountain. When making his decision to accept the Temporal Ward's offer, he had realized that he needed to resign himself to the idea of walking away from everything that he knew. He had believed that he had made peace with his choice. But now, facing this parting, he was not so sure. Artoo had been with him for nearly thirty years. He knew Luke better than anyone else in the galaxy. And with that insight, Luke was sure that his mechanical friend understood from his master's tone and mannerisms...that this parting would probably be final. He had not contemplated how deeply he would miss certain aspects still prevalent in his life—like having an ever present and trustworthy Artoo always at his side.

Picking up the small haversack at his feet, he stepped away from the X-wing before turning back to watch as the fighter's repulsors fired up and smoothly lifted the ship off the ground. In one last gesture, Luke held up the palm of his hand, signaling a final farewell to the last remnants of the life he had known. He clamped his grip tighter on his cloak as the backwash of engines mixed with the gusts of wind caused the long folds of material to billow and whip around him. He watched silently as the sleek ship tipped a long, tapering wing and then veered away from the mountain—rising high into the clear heavens above him.

The frigid wind forgotten, he kept his eyes transfixed on the fighter as it left the atmosphere until he could no longer distinguish the red glow of its afterburners from the violet sky. Since he had left Coruscant, the constant feeling of emptiness he had lived with for months had only intensified—standing alone on the cold granite outcropping of this barren alien world felt appropriate to him. Luke had never felt so hollow and alone as he did in that moment.

Dismissing his dark reverie, he turned and started walking toward the mountain face. He had nearly reached the rough rock wall when he heard the distinctive whine of hydraulics. A large panel of stone effortlessly moved back and began to rise as it had the last time he was on the planet. He was not surprised to see the cloaked form of B'Tak Katan move forward from the darkness to greet him.

"Master Skywalker." The blue skinned Durosian bowed deeply. "You have returned to us."

"Emissary Katan," Luke tipped his head in a reciprocal greeting.

"Please," the tall alien raised a long eloquent hand, "I have no title—simply call me B-Tak."

"As you wish," the Jedi returned.

"I see that you are here alone." B'Tak's pupilless orange eyes scanned the empty landing platform as his thin lip curled in a smile. "May I assume then that you have accepted our offer?"

"That is a wise assumption," Luke nodded, "though I believe there is very little time left to do so."

B'Tak tipped his bulbous head to one side and narrowed his eyes as he silently waited for Luke to continue.

"Even now, the Jedi and Sith prepare for battle," Luke explained. "The Force warns me that if this confrontation cannot be avoided, the visions that I believe we have both been privy to will come to pass."

As the Jedi spoke, the Durosian raised his head and looked back to the cave. His features had once again taken on a distant, vague expression—as if he was communicating with an unknown entity.

"Yes, I see," B'Tak murmured quietly. He hesitated a moment longer, then seemed to snap back to attention and turned to face his guest once again. "Then by all means, let us proceed with haste." He extended a long arm in the direction of the cave opening. "This way, Master Jedi," B'Tak said, moving toward the back of the large, roughly hewn chamber.

Luke moved forward with B-Tak into the darkness. As his vision began to adjust to the lack of light, he could see that they were headed toward a bank of durasteel doors embedded into the rock. As B-Tak pressed his elongated hand against a symbol carved into a raised stone next to one of the metal panels, the nearest set of doors slid open to reveal a turbolift pod. Luke stepped in, followed by his guide. He stood with legs slightly apart in preparation for the journey. He was unsure if they would be traveling up or down, but he felt the need to brace himself.

It was down. Judging by the the queasy wrench in his gut and the headiness caused by great acceleration, they were apparently descending a great distance underground and getting there quite rapidly. Anxiety began to slowly creep into his consciousness. He closed his eyes and quickly released his doubts into the Force. There was no backing out now, even if he wanted to.

"Have you discovered your path?" B'Tak asked conversationally as they continued to descend.

"I have seen what must be done," Luke stated flatly. His expression hardened to stone, and he dropped his head in an attempt to quell the bile that threatened to rise. "Although I do not relish my role, I will do what I must." he added honestly.

"And what, may I ask, will that role entail?"

"I must go to a planet called Mustafar. I can give you an approximate date by which I must arrive. Events will transpire that will cause my father—Darth Vader—to become vulnerable... I will take advantage of the situation and make sure he cannot aid Palpatine's effort to wrench control from the Republic." Listening to his own words, Luke marveled at the simplicity of the plan. It was both logical and effective. Since he had first contrived it, he had desperately tried to only focus on the results of his grizzly task—the fact that Vader would no longer be there to hunt down and destroy the Jedi, that he would not be able to unleash unimaginable horrors against the war-weakened galaxy, and that he could not assume his role as the Emperor's enforcer. Though his actions demanded a terrible personal price, no cost was too high to avoid what had actually transpired.

Luke looked up to see the Durosian gazing him back at him. He could not visually discern the alien's expression. Through the Force, however, he felt an equal mix of compassion and disappointment.

"I see," B'Tak mused. "Then I am sure that you will have much to discuss with Master Hatu."

"Hatu?" Luke willingly changed the subject. "Is he the Guardian of whom you spoke?"

"Yes, he is." B'Tak's thin lips stretched tight, revealing sharp yellow teeth. "He had much more confidence in your return than the rest of us. You would think that after all these years we would simply come to accept that he knows far more than we ever will."

The lift finally slowed to a stop, and the doors swished open. Luke clenched his jaw tightly to prevent his mouth from falling open in astonishment. B-Tak again proffered his arm forward in an invitation to proceed. Luke stepped out into the grand chamber.

The room was better lit than the rough chamber he had first entered before their descent, but it would still be considered dim by most standards. The light source that illuminated it appeared to be thousands of glowing crystals embedded into the rock. They cast a slight blue tint onto the smooth stone walls. The chamber itself was immense, the very size of it making it difficult to clearly discern the domed ceiling above. For some reason, the room reminded Luke of the Jedi Temple, although it appeared to be far older in construction. It was circular in design. A ring of graceful columns were arranged several meters from the exterior walls. There were multiple arched opening cut into the curved walls at regular intervals around the room. Luke assumed that they led to hallways that spiraled out to the rest of this underground complex.

Luke had no words to describe the exotic beauty of the object in the center of the room that ultimately drew his attention. Approximately ten meters tall and close to three meters thick at the base sat an obelisk made from pure crystal. It was the same blueish-black color as the small globe that had been sent to him. And like that mysterious orb, there was neither design nor decoration adorning its sides. Stepping forward for a close examination of the monolith, he saw no imperfection or crack to mar the clarity of the stone, no mould seam or chisel mark to discern its method of manufacture. It was as if the crystalline structure had simply came to be. It was so totally perfect—and powerful.

Standing next to this great crystal, Luke could clearly feel the Force pulsating around him. He could also sense another type of energy field, though it was elusive and unidentifiable. The waves of both energies seemed mysteriously amplified—as if the currents of each were being pulled into the crystal column—melded together—and then released once again to flow outward in blended harmony. He was at ease as these waves engulfed him, soothing his soul. He had never experienced anything that felt quite like this. Although he could sense that this combined ethereal power was both powerful and ancient, it felt neither evil nor benevolent. It just was.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" the Durosian marveled in reverence.

Luke started as the other's words broke his rapture. He turned to face the tall alien, though he could not find his voice to comment.

"This is the reason for our existence. As a remnant of a lost civilization—it is our obligation to ensure its protection." B-Tak straightened to his full height as he closed his eyes and continued. "It is the source of our insight and the window to our understanding...and the portal to your destiny."

"What type of crystal is this?" Luke inquired.

"It is far more than simply quartz or silica," B-Tak explained. "Think of this structure as a transceiver of sorts. Utilizing both thought and energy, it can span space and time as easily as a starship navigates through hyperspace. What you see exposed is but a fraction of the entire formation. The main body of what you describe as a crystal makes up the core of this planet."

Luke began to ask another question when a vibration through the Force drew his attention to a being standing next to the monolith. He was dressed in the same dark blue robes as his host, though his cowl was pulled over his head. When gazing upon him, Luke could not put aside a sense of recognition at seeing the shape of this unidentified sentient. His diminutive form seemed so familiar. His Force presence reminded him of someone…

"Master Yoda?" Luke took several steps toward the small creature.

"Humph!" The diminutive figure turned toward the blond man. His cowl fell back as he did so, revealing distinctively long tapering ears and wispy white hair encircling a green-skinned head. The creature's wrinkled brow constricted tightly into deep furrows, and his large blue eyes narrowed in apparent irritation. "A Jedi I am not!" he spat in a deep, gravelly voice.

Luke halted abruptly. Although close in overall appearance to Master Yoda, Luke could feel waves of turbulent emotions radiating from the frail, ancient being. They were feelings he would have never associated with his one-time Master.

B'Tak quickly moved between the two in an attempt defuse the situation. "May I introduce my Master… Master Guardian Hatu," he said to Luke. Turning to the ancient creature, he continued, "Master Hatu, it is my pleasure to present to you Grand Master Luke Skywalker.

"I am greatly honored to meet you, Master Hatu." Luke bowed his head in acknowledgment.

Hatu had paid little attention to the introductions; he was still too riled from hearing Yoda's name. "Too quick to judge are you," the little green figure groused, looking accusingly at the Jedi Master. "Unfortunate that is—concerning as well." Hatu closed his eyes and shuddered as he inhaled deeply.

"Forgive my ignorance," Luke apologized. "I did not mean to offend…"

"Speak we will," Hatu interrupted as he turned away from Luke dismissively. "Hmm, time is short. Much there is to accomplish." He shook his head and then looked up at the Durosian. "Prepare him you will." With that, the small creature stiffly ambled off toward one of the archways, leaning heavily on a smooth black cane, his age-gnarled claws grasping the crystal cap tightly.

B-Tak turned to the befuddled Jedi. "Forgive me, Master Skywalker," he spoke solemnly. "I should have warned you."

"I must admit, I don't understand what just transpired." Luke looked up into the Durosian's pupilless eyes.

"I will explain what I can while I escort you to your quarters," B-Tak smiled apologetically. With a sweep of his elongated hand, he again indicated the direction in which to proceed.

They both moved toward one of the archways opposite from where Hatu had exited the chamber. Luke soon found himself in a long stone corridor. He walked quietly with his guide, awaiting an explanation.

"As I told you on your last visit, the Guardians chose the destruction of their civilization over defeat to their power-hungry enemies. But I omitted to mention their inability to bring themselves to completely destroy the vast knowledge that they had amassed," B'Tak explained. "Instead, they divvied their resources and constructed these outposts throughout the stars. It was hoped that the sentients of the universe would evolve beyond their petty desires and unite together for the advancement of all. If that were to happen, then the Guardians would reemerge into an enlightened galaxy and once again bring forth their knowledge."

"A lofty goal," Luke observed.

"Yes, it was," the Durosian acknowledged. "If the natural timeline had remained pure, that future could have been attainable." B'Tak glanced down at the Jedi. "Now, of course, it is impossible."

"The crushed butterfly," Luke mused.

B'Tak solemnly nodded.

"You say the Guardians watched these outposts," Luke began. "How many are there?"

"This is the only one left," B'Tak stated dryly. "If a location was discovered by a Guardian's enemies, then his final duty would be to destroy their station and deny the amassed knowledge held within to fall into unscrupulous hands. We alone remain hidden."

Luke furrowed his brow. "Why was your Master so disturbed when I mistook him for Master Yoda?" he inquired innocently.

"My Master's guardianship of this outpost was to have ended nearly eight centuries ago," B-Tak explained. "Even by then, the natural timeline had been noticeably corrupted and the gap caused by the damage was widening. It is my understanding that when your Master Yoda arrived, instead of assuming his duties here, he opted to forego his obligation, breaking the covenant with his people. Instead, he personally attempted to correct the flaw by choosing to re-emerge as a presence in the galaxy. He trained as a Jedi and exclusively followed the Force. Needless to say, Master Hatu disagreed with his course of action. Although I believe that my Master had long hoped that Yoda would someday think better of his decision and return to us."

"Master Yoda died more than a quarter of a century ago," Luke looked sharply toward the Durosian. "I was with him when he joined the Force."

"Yes, we were aware of his passing." B-Tak turned slightly to appraise the Jedi in his vision. "And despite our Master's use of the knowledge within his grasp, we are also mindful that it is extremely unlikely that he will survive much longer himself. You see, my friend, we are all struggling against the inevitable."

Luke turned his eyes forward as he continued down the corridor. There was so much more to consider than what he had believed possible just a few hours ago. The apparent rift between Guardians had been totally unexpected.

"Ah, we are here," B'Tak reached over and touched a panel of stone with a design carved into its face similar to the one in the antechamber near the landing pad. As he did, the door to a small chamber opened silently.

Luke stepped in and looked around. The room was illuminated by the same type of crystals embedded into the walls as he had seen consistently throughout this underground structure. Again, there was virtually no furniture in the room, simply several large hassocks placed in a circle around a small, squat pedestal in the center of the room. An arched opening at the back of the rounded chamber appeared to lead to what Luke assumed was a fresher.

"I must leave you here so that I can attend to preparations for your journey," B'Tak explained.

"How long before I make this…journey?"

"That will depend entirely on Master Hatu," B'Tak informed him. "I will retrieve you when all is ready."

"What do I do until then?" Luke glanced distractedly around the barren room.

"You should use your remaining time with us to prepare yourself." The tall Durosian waved his hand toward the archway in the back of the room. "There are clean robes awaiting you that will be more appropriate for your passage. I would offer you refreshment, but it would be unwise to do so. You will want to divest yourself of all material possessions. It will be impossible for anything not of your person to accompany you as you cross over to your destination." The Durosian bowed deeply and turned to leave.

"Wait," Luke called out to him. "What about my hand?"

"Your hand?" B-Tak turned back to the Jedi Master. He blinked several times as he cocked his bulbous head to the side. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

Luke raised his gloved right arm and wiggled his mechanical fingers. "My hand," he explained, "it's a prosthesis. My natural arm was severed twenty-six years ago." He hoped he would not have to explain further. It was painful enough to know that his own father had maimed him. It was a fact that he had kept well guarded throughout these many years.

"Oh, my," B-Tak looked away, embarrassed by the oversight. "I will inform Master Hatu immediately regarding the situation. Hopefully, he will know of a solution."

"Does he realize the urgency—"

"Yes, he is well aware," B'Tak interrupted the Jedi's inquiry. The Durosian turned to leave once again. As he reached the doorway, he turned back to face the Jedi Master and placed his hand on the door control.

"Do not worry, Master Jedi." The Durosian's thin lips curled into a genuine smile. "We will make sure that your passage is a safe one. After all, time is our specialty."

A bit bewildered, Luke stood several moments looking at the closed door when B'Tak had left him. What had he gotten himself into? Anxiety began to claw away in his belly. He wasn't really sure what he had expected, but for some reason, it wasn't to be left alone with only his own thoughts to stew over. He knew he was growing impatient, but he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. He had an ugly, unpleasant task to perform, and the sooner he dealt with it, the better.

Shedding his growing frustration into the Force, Luke moved through the small room to the fresher. Embedded crystals brightened the small room as he entered. Noting his reflection in the large mirror behind the sink, he could immediately see that the splotchy black patches which had resided under his eyes for months had greatly lessened. No doubt due to the extended rest he had received during his trip to get here. Whatever concoction Cilghal had given him had sent him to depths of consciousness that he could only liken to the deepest of healing trances. Begrudgingly, he had to acknowledge the Master Healer's expertise—and her ability in delivery of her subversive treatment.

Setting his haversack on the built-in counter that stretched across the back wall, he walked over to the pile of dark blue robes neatly folded on the counter and began removing his gloves. As he had been instructed to do, he discarded the rest of his clothes and reached over to grab the robe that had been left for him. Scrunching the fabric up, he raised it over his shoulders, stuck his head through the appropriate hole, and let the thick fabric fall to the floor.

Looking down over the front of him, he could not suppress a frown. Although he had always preferred utility over style, living with Mara for so many years had taught him to at least have a small appreciation for fashion. Obviously, such a trait was something the Temporal Ward had never considered. The garment that he now wore was of simple design and draped his frame in a style akin to a supply sack. It hung plain and shapeless, and it puddled on the floor around his feet. Full sleeves fell down well past his hands.

It wasn't the first time that he had wished for a few more inches of his father's height, though he knew that—at this stage in his life—it was no more than a fruitless plea. Twisting slightly, he noted a fabric belt dangling from opposing loops on the side by his waist. Grabbing each end, he quickly tied them, bringing up some of the excess fabric above the belt to sag loosely over it. Thankfully, that had brought the hem of the robe high enough that he was not going to be stumbling over it. At least it was warm.

Not really caring to see if his mirrored image looked as ridiculous as he felt, he kept his eyes averted and proceeded to gather his discarded clothing and fold them neatly on the counter. Reaching for his lightsaber to place it on top of the stack, he stood silently for a moment, holding the smooth metal hilt in his hand. This would be another difficult item to leave behind. Throughout his time as a Jedi, he had only wielded two lightsabers. The first was his father's, which he had lost along with his hand on Bespin. And then there was this one—painstakingly constructed in Ben's small hovel on Tatooine and used to defend himself innumerable times since. His first mentor had once told him that a lightsaber was more than merely a weapon. It was a representation of a Jedi's life. Luke thought it rather symbolic that it would be necessary to leave it behind.

Luke froze for a moment as he suddenly sensed another presence blaze powerfully close by. He cautiously made his way out of the fresher and looked to the center of the room to see the diminutive figure of Master Hatu sitting on one of the hassocks. The creature's head was slightly turned upward, his eyes closed in quiet contemplation. Luke had the impression that this meeting was going to be more of an interrogation rather than a discussion. He hoped he would be up for it.

"A path you have chosen, hum?" the ancient Guardian rasped in his gruff voice.

"I believe that I have found the one place that I can best correct history, yes," Luke answered.

Hatu frowned. He turned toward the Jedi Master judgmentally and assessed him with piercing blue eyes. "Show me you will."

"Show you," Luke blurted. "How?"

"Sent to you a vessel was," Hatu grumbled impatiently. "Our invitation it did contain. But discovered more to its purpose you have. A portal to your thoughts it has become."

Luke nodded. He turned back to the fresher where he had left his haversack. He rummaged through it until he found the object he sought. Grabbing the blue crystal orb, he returned to the larger room and sat down on one of the thick hassocks across from the ancient creature. Crossing his legs, he shifted his weight and placed the globe gently on the squat marble pedestal that sat between them. Luke was taken by the observation that Hatu's attention had never wavered. Hatu intensely watched his every action.

Hatu raised a gnarled green hand over the crystal. His claws hovered centimeters over the smooth surface of the orb. Closing his large eyes, his diminutive body shuddered slightly as he drew a deep breath and entered a deeper state of concentration. Wizened features smoothed and the tips of his long ears dipped as he furthered his relaxed state.

Luke watched the aged Guardian carefully as he slipped deeper into meditation. The Jedi could feel the currents of the Force mixed with tendrils of other undefined energies begin to reel and undulate to a heightened level.

Luke furrowed his brow as he noted a brightening glow emanating from deep within the orb's center. Conversely, the embedded crystals set around the room dimmed until they were mere pinpoints of light along the walls. A flicker of movement caught Luke's eye and drew his attention back to the orb positioned between them. He narrowed his eyes and watched as a series of distorted, blurred images began to swirl around the curved inner walls of the globe.

Luke easily recognized many of the scenes: barren desert wastelands, labyrinths of dark stone tunnels and smoke-filled corridors, steaming fissures and molten rivers. There were images of people as well. The white-clad solders he had seen rushing through the Temple, the weather-worn face of his Aunt Beru… Luke's breath hitched in his chest as the vibrant image of his son, Ben, glided gracefully across the sides of the globe. He reached out, as if to touch the boy's visage, but immediately recoiled as the shape darkened and then morphed into the form of Darth Vader.

The images continued to churn chaotically until they settled into the scenes of his last vision. Luke watched, mesmerized, as a reddened haze filtered over the diminutive shapes of two desperate opponents—both of them locked once again in a battle that would affect the destiny of the galaxy. When he saw the recognizable form of Obi-Wan somersault away from the river of lava, he turned away. He had no desire to view the torturous scenes again. He closed his eyes and waited, knowing that Master Hatu would be viewing this replay of his vision through to its conclusion.

"Expected more from you I did."

Master Hatu's deep gravelly voice brought Luke's attention back to the present. He opened his eyes and noted that the room had brightened once again and the crystal globe had resumed its inert bluish-black appearance. When he looked upon the ancient Guardian, he was taken by the expression of deep sadness etched in the being's heavily lined face.

"B'Tak told you of my intention?" the Jedi Master queried the ancient creature.

"Chosen a quick and easy path you have." Hatu turned his eyes down to his lap and shook his head slowly.

"I wouldn't say that what I am planning to do will be easy," Luke retorted. "He was my father, after all."

"Clouded your thoughts have become." Hatu countered. "Only through your grief do you attempt to look for answers. Blind you are if this one path is all you have found through your visions."

"Blind?" Luke was surprised by the accusation. He clearly felt the acrid sting of the Guardian's implied insult. "What I saw was pretty clear. It needed little interpretation."

It had been many years since he had sat on the soggy ground of the Dagobah swamps and tried to interpret a similarly perplexing pattern of speech. Luke opened his mind to the Force in the same way he had learned to do while listening to Master Yoda. It was the only way he had ever found to help him make sense of the cryptic dialect and successfully understand his Master's lessons. Sitting here in the presence of this ancient creature, he could clearly sense Hatu's disapproval as he attempted to understand Guardian's words. He felt both woefully inadequate and irritated.

"Tell me you will of this '_clear path_' that you have found," the ancient being scoffed as he pinned the Jedi Master with his intense blue eyes.

"I did what was asked of me," Luke explained as he rubbed a callused hand over his eyes and tried to release his growing frustrations. "I used the orb to find the last point where I could repair the past. This is what it showed me."

"The last point it may be," Hatu agreed, "but a dangerous path you choose to follow. Prepared for the consequences of your actions you are not."

"What happens to me doesn't really matter anymore," Luke looked away to stare with unfocused eyes at the glowing crystals embedded in the wall. "I just need to make sure the old Republic and the Jedi survive. If going to Mustafar and stopping Vader is how I can best prevent the rise of the Empire, then that is what I will do."

"Humph," Hatu shook his head as if admonishing an incompetent child. "Too willing you are to condemn your father to his fate."

Luke's head snapped back at the accusation. "When I first came here, I asked if my father was destined to remain a Jedi. Your emissary told me there was no way to know." He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Now, you're acting as if you believe my father was not supposed to fall to the Dark Side at all. Has something changed?"

"No, nothing has changed. The mystery that shrouds your father's fate, too tightly does it bind," the Guardian sighed heavily and dropped his head. "Still unknown the reason he chose his path. An enigma he remains."

"Then what's your point?" Luke pushed.

"Always in motion is the future and so hope there still remains," Hatu stated firmly. "The Chosen One your father was. A destiny to balance the Force he had. Fulfill it at the proper time he still could."

"So you're saying that keeping my farther from turning to the dark side would not only ensure his own destiny, but it would correct the galaxy's destiny as well?" Luke leaned forward skeptically. "If that's true, then tell me how to do it, and I will make sure it happens."

"Only passage will I provide." The ancient Guardian shook his head dismissively and looked away. "Find your own path you must."

That's what I was trying to do, and now you are saying I'm wrong." Luke threw up his hands irritably, a tight frown pulling on his lips. "I don't know what more you expect from me."

Hatu lowered his head and heaved a heavy sigh. He mumbled something in a low voice that Luke could not understand. The Jedi could feel Hatu's disappointment through the Force.

"Much you have been given already from the visions you have received," Hatu countered. "But willing you must be to open your mind and pursue all the knowledge they entail. Examine them again you must. New meanings you may find, hmm? "

"I don't see any other possible way to interpret what I have seen," Luke groaned in a low voice. "It's pretty clear to me that my father is the key to repairing the past. Besides, seeing him only as Darth Vader in my visions—I have come to believe that my father's fall is inevitable."

"Understandable it is as to why you see your father as you do." Hatu cocked his head and narrowed his eyes as he once again scrutinized the Jedi Master. "Only as Darth Vader did you know him."

"Why would that matter?" Luke puzzled.

A silence fell between the two. Luke turned away and focused his eyes on the embedded wall crystals as he contemplated Hatu's explanation. An idea struck him, and he turned to face the Guardian once more.

"Are you telling me that the visions induced by the orb are also influenced by my memories?" Luke began again. "If that was true, then how could I have witnessed the purging of the Temple or the duel that happened on Mustafar? I wasn't there. Those events happened before I was born. I wouldn't have any memory of them."

"Shades of the past they were—recorded forever in the fabric of time. Understanding they may offer, but guidance they cannot provide. Only from within can the knowledge you seek be found—conveyed to you by those you recognize."

"Because Darth Vader existed," Luke mused, "…and Beru—and Ben… that was why I could see them—why they could talk to me… Is that what you are saying?"

Hatu nodded.

Luke frowned and leaned away from the ancient Master. He closed his eyes as he felt his world suddenly tilt horribly off kilter...again. With just a few oddly worded sentences, the resolve he had felt toward the plan that he had forged over the past five days—well, two if he didn't count the time that he was unconscious—instantly ebbed away. His resolve to commit a heinous act had been shattered… Had he simply been rushing to find the quickest solution? Was he only looking for the easiest answer? He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes.

"I don't know that I can do this," Luke expressed his doubts as he looked back wearily at the Guardian. "There is too much at stake. I could make matters worse. There must be someone else more capable. Maybe you should go—"

"An observer I must remain. Interfere in these matters I cannot." Hatu shook his head adamantly and focused on the Jedi before him. "Do this you must. The ability to succeed only you possess." The Guardian's large blue eyes narrowed. "To your Force you will listen—follow the guidance it provides. Trust what is in your heart, and success you will have."

"What about Master Yoda?" Luke could clearly see the ancient creature stiffen as he mentioned his old Master. The Guardian's features had become unreadable.

"Wary of him you must be," Hatu interjected. "Know that I sent you he will."

"Then maybe he can guide me—"

"No," Hatu interrupted and shook his head furiously. "Aid you he will not."

"But if he knew why I was there—knew what the Jedi Order was about to face—why wouldn't he want to help?"

"Tell him you cannot." Again Hatu was adamant.

"I don't understand."

"Tampered in matters not his own already he has. Unwilling he is to accept that to others this duty must fall." The Guardian pointed a wizened claw at the Jedi Master as he continued his rant. "Believes he does that a difference he has already made. A threat you will be to all he considers repaired."

"But that doesn't make sense," Luke insisted. "I remember Master Yoda. He trained me. I know he would be open to listen..."

"A different Master you knew." Hatu softly intoned. "Humbled by Sith by then he was. Understood the folly of his arrogance, though too late it was." The ancient creature looked away.

Luke shifted uncomfortably. He suddenly understood that what he had originally taken as Hatu's anger toward Yoda had actually been deep sorrow and regret. "Forgive me, Master," he apologized. "I meant no disrespect."

"Ready for your journey, you are not," Hatu grunted. "Meditate you should on what we have discussed." The small creature then grasped his black cane and used it to help rise up. Luke started to reach over to assist, but a gnarled green claw waved his efforts off. Once standing, the ancient creature began slowly amble away. "Leave you now I will. Much to do there still remains."

"Wait," Luke called to him. "You still haven't told me what I should do..."

"Tell you that I cannot." Hatu confessed. "Once on your way discoveries will you make. Answers you will find where none were expected. Opportunities revealed where none were sought. Open yourself to them you must." As he reached the door pane, Hatu turned back to the Jedi. "Taught you well your Master did. Rely on his lessons you must. Serve you well they will."

Luke watched incredulously as the door swished shut upon the ancient Temporal Master's exit.

Waves of uncertainty threatened to swamp him. Fears of failure began to gnaw at his belly. B-Tak's and Hatu's request to design his path echoed mockingly in his brain.

What was he getting himself into? He was no better prepared for this mission then he had been when he blasted off Tatooine with Ben, Han, and Chewie. Although it was clear to him that the stakes for this endeavor were possibly even higher than they were then—the price of failure too great to contemplate.

But none of that mattered, now. He had to come up with a new plan… a new direction. He had already looked for guidance to find the last possible point to affect destiny and had been shown the destruction of a monster. According to the Guardian's words, a better option existed where he could achieve the same results. But he didn't have a clue how to accomplish it.

One thing was for sure. Beyond any doubt, Luke knew that he would soon be meeting his father. That idea alone was both enticing and terrifying. The thought of preventing Anakin Skywalker's fall altogether was alluring, but was it too much to hope for?

Hatu had mentioned that without knowing the cause, he could not predict the outcome of his father's fate. What triggered his father's descent to darkness in the first place? What would cause any Jedi Knight to be seduced by the Sith? Since Luke hadn't been observant enough to heed the warning signs and save Jacen from a similar fate, would he be able to amend his mistakes and save his father? These were answers he truly needed to discover.

Luke scanned the empty room with his eyes. Despite his need to meditate on his quandary, he somehow doubted it would take long for the final preparations for his trip to be made. Time itself was now turning into his enemy. Well, he had better change that relationship and try to coax it into becoming his ally instead. The best way he could do that now was to make efficient use of what was left to him.

Settling down in the thick hassock, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Releasing his heightened emotions, he reached out to the calm that he knew he needed to tap. He could feel the waves of the Force flowing rhythmically around him. Centering himself further, he began to feel the euphoric detachment that accompanied his deepest meditative state. Luke was so totally absorbed with his thoughts that he was no longer aware of his surroundings. He did not notice the room darkening and the forgotten crystal globe beginning to glow from within.


	13. Chapter 13 Going and Coming

_A/N #1: I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy. _

_A/N #2: This story would not be what it is without the help of my very competent beta reader, "Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu." Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated._

_A/N #3: Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I needed to spend a little extra time with it as it is so critical to the remainder of the story. I hope that you will find that it was worth the wait. Thank you, again, to all who have been kind enough to leave reviews. It is always great to receive feedback, and I truly enjoy reading your comments. I will continue to respond to signed reviews privately._

_So—here we go…_

* * *

**Chapter 13 – Going and Coming**

_Hands clasped behind his head—eyes closed—he took another deep breath and stretched the muscles of his back. He'd overeaten… He knew it to be the case, but that had not stopped him from indulging in that second piece of glaze cake. Now, lying __here under the comforting rays of a warm sun, the fragrant aroma of wildflowers filling his nostrils and the prickling sensation of meadow grass tickling his back, he was too full to move—and too content to want to._

"_Are you just going to lie here and sleep the day away, farmboy?"_

_His lips quirked into a smile as the voice of his beloved ignited a fire in his blood. She always had that __effect on him. There was no need to open his eyes. __Through the Force, he could sense her approach—feel her kneel down beside him. The slightest shiver ran through his body as her form blocked the sun and her shadow fell across his chest._

"_Mara," he whispered._

"_Who else did you expect?" she quipped._

_She never gave him an __inch, and he loved her for it. How he had missed their banter, her constant teasing, her…_

_The realization of the moment crashed into his brain. His eyes shot open, __and he rose to his elbows. He desperately fought the fog of his senses to focus on the beautiful face that hovered above him. The flaming red hair, the alabaster skin, the emerald green eyes… It truly was her._

"_Mara!" he shouted. In one fluid motion, he reached up and grabbed her around the waist, __bringing her body crushing down to his. The momentum of his action caused them to lose their balance. They rolled several times __over the gentle sloping ground until he widened his legs to brace himself and end their descent._

_When they stopped, he was again on his back with her body pressed against him. Her face was __a hairsbreadth from his, her green eyes twinkling with amusement, a broad smile gracing her beautiful, full lips. Overwhelmed by emotion, he opened his mouth, but he __found no words.__ He didn't need them. She slowly lowered her head to capture his lips with hers. They kissed, ever so gently at first, until need, longing, __and lust began to infiltrate their desires. He stiffened as he felt her cautiously pulling away from him until they were __barely separated and were once again gazing into each other's eyes._

"_I've missed you so much," he confessed, his voice husky with emotion._

"_I know."_

_He could see his love reflecting back to him in her face above him. She slowly raised her delicate hand and brushed away his disheveled hair, running a finger down the side of his face as the familiar yearning of passion rushed back into his veins. He began to lean forward to continue their reunion when he felt small but firm fingers pressing against his lips._

"_Careful, Skywalker," Mara warned teasingly. "You wouldn't want to have to explain where this is leading to your son, now would you?" She gave him a quick peck on the end of his nose before pushing herself away to sit up next to him._

"_Ben?" he blurted, confused. "Where is he?"_

_He rose up to a sitting position and, for the first time, looked around at his surroundings. He felt a quiver go through his body as he noted the unworldly appearance of the landscape. The grass was far too green, the sky—too blue. The delicate white flowers that lay interspersed in the meadow seemed far too fragrant. Hearing a gentle roar, __he quickly looked to a wall of dramatic waterfalls just beyond the meadow in which they sat. Turning to the opposite direction, __he noted several strange herbivores with small heads and enormously bulbous bodies grazing at the top of the ridge above them._

_He closed __his eyes and inhaled deeply. This had to be but a dream, __he rationalized with a twinge of pain entering his heart. This place was too perfect, too peaceful… and then—there was Mara…_

"_Down by the lake."_

_Her answer snapped his attention back to her. He opened his eyes to gaze upon his beautiful wife once more—never wanting this moment to end. Never wanting to wake up—_

"_He said he was going to feed the ducks," Mara continued, __as if the circumstances __of their reunion were completely normal. "But knowing your son, I wouldn't put it past him to be trying to catch pom-hoppers—or some other such nonsense." Her smile widened._

_Ducks? Pom-hoppers? Those strange rotund beasts that grazed and grunted behind them… He had never seen nor heard of such creatures before. "Where are we?"_

_She pulled back even further and gazed at him with that "have you completely lost your mind" look that she often had for him. Then, with the fluid grace of a dancer, she lithely rose to her feet and extended her hand to him._

"_Come," she smiled warmly. "I'll show you."_

_With no hesitation, he reached to take her hand and accept the invitation. Quickly standing, he silently followed as she began to guide him down the hillside._

_How long they walked together had not mattered. His insides were still quaking with joy. His eyes never wavered as he watched her, enchanted. The way the sun glistened off her fiery hair, the way her face was softly haloed by unbound curls. The way her slight figure glided smoothly next to him—perfectly defined in the fitted jumpsuit she wore. He would be happy if they could remain striding next to each other for all eternity—Force, how he missed her._

_Squeezing his hand, Mara took a half step in front of his path and stopped. He was forced to turn to the left and halt as well. Taking a moment to glance around, he realized that they were no longer in a meadow, but standing on a sandy beach. In front of them was a calm, wide lake of crystal clear water. Surrounding them was a ring of tall verdant mountains._

_Inexplicably, he was drawn to look to the opposite shore. Starting at the water's edge and nestling into the hillside sat a magnificent villa. Two stair-stepped towers dominated its design—their blue roofs shimmering reflectively onto the lake. Its many arched windows and cream-colored exterior walls were __accented with vines and greenery. Off to the far side of the main house was a large stone veranda with an ornately carved railing; surrounding the grand manor was a variety of well-manicured gardens. The lake house appeared so comforting. The entire locale—soothing..._

"_What is this place?" he mouthed._

"_We all have a beginning, my love," she whispered softly next to him. He could feel her warm breath tickle his ear. "This is yours… Remember it."_

_Her strange comment pulled his attention back to her. He turned and furrowed his brow as he looked at her in a quizzical manner. _

"_How can you be here?" He hated to ask—was frightened of her answer, but he felt pressed to do so._

"_I needed to tell you something." Her fingers tightened around his hand._

"_Tell me what?" He could not help but be intrigued._

_She pulled at his arm so that he would face her. Taking a step forward, their bodies once again brushed against each other._

"_You were right, you know," she intoned._

"_I was right?" He echoed her words. After a moment, a wry grin began to tug at his lips. "Now I know I'm dreaming…"_

_An __indignant frown fleetingly crossed her features before passing back into a loving smile. Ignoring his tease, she continued._

"_What you told your sister," she pressed. "You were right about us."_

_He cocked his head to the side, __trying to grasp her meaning._

"_It is our destiny to be together, Luke," she clarified, her face beaming as her brilliant smile grew. "Never worry, my love," she spoke softly, "I will always find you." She raised her hand and brushed over his brow and down the side of his face again. "I found you once before; __I am here with you now… And I will find you wherever I must. We will be together."_

_Her words were like a spear to his heart. They ignited his soul. He ached for her. It took the most minuscule amount of effort to lean forward and recapture her lips. He did so, wantonly—allowing his passion to once again flow unrestrained. He shuddered slightly as he felt her pull away. She tipped her head so their foreheads remained touching __and closed her eyes._

"_I'm going to prove it to you, farmboy," she averred softly._

"_How?" he gulped breathily._

"_You'll know soon enough…"_

_He didn't understand what she meant by that answer, but right now—he didn't really care. All he knew was that she was here with him, and this was where he wanted to stay…forever. Disentangling his hand from hers, he raised his arms and took her into a loving embrace. She welcomed their closeness and nestled her head in the crook of his neck._

"_I have to go, now," her melodic voice barely more than a whisper. She began to pull away._

"_No, wait." He gently held on to her by her upper arms. "Don't leave me."_

"_I can't stay here, Luke." She tipped her head, a sadness shadowing her eyes. "…And neither can you."_

"_No!" his plea became urgent. "You don't understand. I am lost without you."_

_He gathered her within his arms again, hesitant to break their reunion—willing the Force to bind their souls together._

"Master Jedi…"

_The voice that echoed around him was recognizable, though totally unwelcome. An urgent vibration in the Force thrummed annoyingly. Though he tried to block it from his mind, there was nothing he could do to prevent it from increasing in intensity. With remorse, he could feel his vision begin to shatter as he sensed the presence of the voice's owner come to stand passively next to him._

_"We are all counting on you, my love," Mara whispered softly in his ear. "Trust what is in your heart, and all will be fine."_

_"Stay with me, Mara." His voice was thick with emotion as he tightened his arms around her, "Please... just stay with me."_

"_I am with you—always," she pressed tighter into his embrace._

"Master Jedi…" the annoying voice interrupted again.

_He clenched his eyes shut tightly as if that action alone would send this intruder away—would allow him to stay in this blissful state—would permit him a few more moments of happiness. But it was not to be. As he tightened __his hold on his beloved wife, he could feel her essence slowly slipping away through his fingers.__.._

_***_

"Master Jedi," B'Tak repeated once more. "Forgive me, but it is time for you to leave."

_Mara was gone._

Luke's tortured spirit screamed in agony as he blinked his eyes open. His mind slowly dredged up consciousness. An irrepressible shudder ran through his body before he fully took control of his faculties. He schooled his features into a mask of neutrality and again locked his grief back into the recesses of his heart.

"We must hurry," the Durosian implored.

Luke gazed up at the tall alien and immediately became aware of the anxious shifting of his frame, the expression of worry shadowing his features, and the waves of trepidation radiating raggedly toward him though the Force.

The Jedi Master rose quickly to his feet. "What has happened?" he inquired.

"Nothing yet," B'Tak tipped his head slightly. "But the imminent conflict that you indicated on your arrival apparently will be far greater in scope then either of us have realized. The disruption that it will soon cause in the natural energy flow coursing throughout the galaxy will make your passage extremely treacherous. To secure your safety, you must leave now."

"Then I guess I am ready," Luke asserted, feeling anything but.

"Please, bring the orb and come with me," B'Tak turned and made his way to the door.

Luke reached down and picked up the dark ball of crystal. He could still feel warmth emanating from within and sense the slight ethereal vibration pulsing beneath his fingers. He quickly moved through the room to catch up to B-Tak,who had begun walking down the hall.

"Master Hatu and I had hoped that you would have more time to prepare for your journey," B'Tak began as Luke caught up to the alien. "We regret that this turn of events has precluded that luxury."

"Over the years, I have become quite accustomed to the need to deal with situations with very little planning," Luke mused. "It seems to have become an unfortunate habit that I am unable to break."

B'Tak smiled slightly, grateful for the Jedi's attempt to break the tension that seemed to stifle the corridor.

"How, exactly, is all this going to work?" Luke questioned. "How will I get to where I need to be?"

"I can say very little of what to expect, as I am only aware of the theory behind the process." B'Tak conceded. "Only Guardians have employed the portals, and it has been many centuries since this one has been activated and used as such.

"I can tell you that the crystal you hold is the key to your transport. As it has aided in your meditation, it will act as a catalyst for your thoughts and assist in your journey. You will want to keep it safe at all times, as it will continue to be of great value to you as you follow your chosen path. It shall also help prepare you for what is to come while completing your task."

"Will it aid me in my return home as well?" Luke asked. "I must admit, I have thought only of my mission. I hadn't even considered what was to come after I'd finished."

B'Tak dropped his gaze and appeared noticeably uncomfortable. "When the time is right, you will know."

Luke noted the Durosian's change in behavior but said nothing.

"Will I be sent to Mustafar as I requested?" Luke queried. Although he was no longer sure if that was the course he should follow.

"No," B-Tak shook his head. "My Master has discovered another location which will pose a safer destination for you. From there, you can travel to where you feel you must go," B'Tak declared. "He has also identified a sufficient distraction that will mask your arrival."

"Why the distraction?" Luke furrowed his brow in concern.

"Remember, Master Skywalker, you are a fugitive already for even being here," B'Tak pointed out. "Your impending actions will make you more so. You must keep your true origins and your method of transport well hidden to avoid any—unnecessary interference which might dissuade you from your mission."

"I wasn't planning on making any grand announcements when I got there." Luke glanced at the Durosian as they continued down the corridor.

"I am sure not," B-Tak's lips curled into a wry grin. "But the disturbance to the fabric of time and the convergence of energies generated by your passage will be noticeable to all Force-sensitive beings. You will be rather—_vulnerable_ to detection upon arrival. As well, those who are extremely adept and sensitive will be able to easily identify an oddity surrounding your personal aura—at least until you become fully acclimated, that is."

"In other words," Luke observed, "at least in the beginning, I should avoid Jedi Masters and Sith Lords."

"Precisely."

Luke frowned. If he was to affect his father's destiny before he turned to the Dark Side, how could he do so while avoiding both Sith and Jedi? Anakin Skywalker had obviously had quite an affinity for both at that particular time in history. He rubbed his hand over his eyes to dispel a growing sense of exasperation. This mission was getting more difficult all the time.

"Anything else I need to know?" he muttered.

"Just a slight warning, Master Jedi," B'Tak glanced down at the Jedi so he could better assess the shorter man's reaction to his words. "The energies at work to transport you are extremely intense. You may experience some rather inconvenient side effects."

"Like what?" Luke asked warily.

"Let's just say that my hesitancy to provide you with refreshment upon your arrival will be appreciated," B'Tak replied. "When you reach your destination, you will enter that world much the same as you did the first time you entered this one. Your physical body will require a minor period of—adjustment while it re-synchronizes to the natural harmonics around you. I would suggest that you find a place of seclusion for yourself until the process has been completed."

"How long will it take for me to acclimate?" Luke was feeling rather uneasy regarding this revelation.

"I do not know," B'Tak confessed. "There is no information regarding the effect of this type of travel on humans. But I suspect that your ability to access the Force will aid you greatly in overcoming whatever difficulties you encounter."

"Well," Luke mused. "At least that's good to know."

B'Tak halted as they came into view of the arched opening leading to the main chamber of the complex. He turned to face the Jedi Master and straightened to full height. Luke watched the blue-skinned alien's actions expectantly. When the Durosian remained silent, he felt compelled to speak.

"Is there something else?" Luke asked softly.

B'Tak nodded stiffly. "I just wanted to tell you, Master Skywalker," he cleared the emotion from his throat. "It has been a great honor to have met you. Even in our brief encounter, it is apparent that your reputation pales in comparison of the man you truly are." The Durosian bowed deeply in respect. "With you goes the hope of the galaxy. I cannot imagine another being in the universe in whom I would place more trust."

Overwhelmed by B'Tak's comments, all Luke could do was nod his appreciation. After another awkward moment of silence, they turned and made their way into the grand chamber.

The room looked quite different from when Luke was here before. The crystals embedded in the walls were completely dark. Their glow was not needed, as the chamber was so bright; Luke had to shade his eyes for a moment until they could adjust. The source of the illumination was the crystal monolith in the center of the chamber. The light emanating from the center was nearly white in its brilliance.

Luke clamped his jaw tightly and shielded himself from the onslaught of unseen waves that buffeted him on his entry. The combining energies of the Force, light, and time seemed be drawn into the chamber by the center crystal and then radiated outward in a unique euphoric mix. He had never felt anything close to the intensity of what swirled and eddied around him.

Tentatively, he reached out with his mind and was immediately rewarded with a warm rush of sensation that both embraced and penetrated him. The currents were so vivid they were almost visible. They roiled freely and thundered in his ears. The ethereal energy encompassed the full spectrum of both the light and dark. They meshed together into harmonious unity—intertwined so tightly that he could not discern the differences between them. Tears welled in his eyes as he realized that, for the first time in his life, he understood how it felt when the Force was truly balanced.

Scanning the room, Luke noted the forms of some thirty sentients kneeling around the center obelisk. He assumed that they were the rest of the Temporal Ward community. In front of each cloaked being sat a glowing crystal orb on a squat pedestal. The radiant globes appeared to be twice the size of the one he held. The devotees wore the cowls of their dark blue robes low over their bent heads so that their features were completely obscured. There was no way to discern their species, but from the variance in shapes and sizes, Luke was sure that their secretive community was quite diverse.

Luke's attention was drawn to the diminutive figure that stood closest to the glowing monolith. Identifying him as Master Hatu, he tentatively approached. As he did so, he could feel B'Tak quietly slip behind him to settle in his place amid the ring of fellow Temporal Ward followers.

When he reached the ancient creature standing on the center platform, Luke dropped down to one knee and braced the globe he held in his hands on the other. Hatu was leaning heavily on the black cane clutched between his clawed hands. He stood stiffly with his head back and his eyes tightly shut. Hatu's craggy face appeared even more wizened than when he had visited Luke privately just a short while ago. The Jedi Master had to wonder what this endeavor was costing the elderly Guardian.

Hatu's green skin appeared to have paled to light gray. At first, Luke had thought the change in complexion was simply due to the blue cast from crystal next to him, but the more he studied the aged creature, the less sure he was. When Hatu opened his eyes to look upon the Jedi Master, Luke noted with dismay the dull cast to the large blue irises. He remembered once viewing a similar expression. It was the same one he had seen on Master Yoda's face right before he…

"Still willing are you to try and repair what is broken?" Hatu's gravelly voice could barely be heard over the wail of sheer energy pulsating through the chamber.

Luke inhaled deeply and narrowed his eyes as he set his resolve. "My Master taught me long ago that there is no try—only do. And I will do what I must."

Hatu nodded. The ancient creature's face softened slightly as his lips curled in a slight smile.

Hatu inhaled deeply and closed his eyes as he raised a gnarled claw over Luke's crystal. Incredibly, the energy circulating within the room seemed to amplify to an even greater intensity. The roar of pulsating power was almost deafening. Luke could feel the globe that he held between his hands begin to vibrate as it sparked to life and grew warm. He gazed down upon it, feeling a drawing sensation—as if the orb was pulling its energy directly from his soul. Luke watched, mesmerized, as images once again sprang forward and swirled around the sphere's smooth sides. A hint of movement caught Luke's attention, and he pulled his gaze up to the large monolith before him. He instantly realized that the same imagery that flowed around the object between his hands was now being projected across the sides of the obelisk. At first, the scenes were a familiar repeat of his visions, but then the images changed into something more.

He saw a star field, a veil of planets strewn across a landscape of dangerously unstable black holes. It was the Maw. Within the cluster sat a fleet of ships the size of which had not been seen since the battle of Endor_—_decades ago. Luke realized with dread that he was viewing the hidden Sith's Iron Fist armada. It was far larger than anyone had dared to imagine. He closed his eyes and shuddered. What lay ahead for his Jedi brethren would be far worse than any had foreseen. It would be a slaughter.

Feeling a shift in the energy, Luke opened his eyes and looked at the monolith once again. Thankfully, the imagery had changed. It was now a whirling blur of places and people in settings that he well remembered. There was a scenic view of the Coruscant skyline at dusk, the empty halls of a darkened Jedi Temple, and the barren landscape of Tatooine.

The images churned quicker, and he soon recognized snippets from his own memories: a snatch of home life with Ben and Mara, him holding his newborn son for the first time, the passionate first kiss shared between husband and wife at their wedding…

Again, he felt a shift in energy, and the imagery morphed and roiled with even more urgently: a frantic chase through an ancient forest, a damaged speeder crashing into a snow bank, a reckless flight in a T-16 through a jagged canyon…

Finally, the images began to slow and stabilize until what he saw before him was another grouping of ships suspended against the blackness of space. But this scene was different. Whereas the Iron Fist fleet had lain patiently in wait in the Maw, the cruisers and capital ships that huddled around a single planet were already engaged in deadly combat. Luke did not recognize the scene, though if he had been there, he was sure he would have remembered it—so intense was the battle. Fighters dipped and rolled in the heat of full engagement, Star Destroyers unleashed their deadly spread of cannon fire against their opponents at point blank range, ordinance exploded, and shrapnel filled the blackness of space.

"Time it is."

Hatu's rough voice drew his attention away from the carnage. The Guardian moved his clawed hand away from the globe and laid it against the wall of the obelisk. At his touch, the crystal side began to ripple and appeared to liquefy, turning semi-opaque.

Rising to his feet, Luke felt drawn to something within the monolith. As he reached the structure, he saw nothing but swirling milky mist. He hesitated for a moment longer and turned to look down at the ancient creature beside him. A silent moment of understanding passed between the two. Luke realized the ultimate cost this endeavor was requiring of the knowledgeable Guardian standing at his side. He was humbled by his sacrifice. What he had said to Master Hatu, he had meant. He would do what was necessary to repair the timeline and return the galaxy to its proper destiny. He had to. There was no other option.

Taking a deep breath, Luke stepped into the void.

***

_No Sound._

_No Sight._

_No Touch._

~oo0oo~

_No Passion._

_No Chaos._

_No Death._

_He knew he remained himself, as he could __still __sense his body—he __knew that his hands held a throbbing orb of crystal—knew his feet stood on something solid beneath him. He began to move forward as he continued to try and acclimate to the nothingness around him._

_His sight was the first sense to __come back __to him. He began to identify blurred shapes of swirling gossamer __mists __as they roiled around him. He forced himself to blink and try to clear his vision. It was of little use; __there was nothing here to see._ _His sense of hearing soon followed. He could begin to perceive the booms and roars of distant thunder. Finally, __his ability to sense his surroundings __returned. He __stretched out and __extended a mental probe __into the __thick __haze __and quickly recoiled as he realized that he was not alone._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_He closed his eyes and dropped his head as the sound of mechanical breathing grew louder around him. He thought for a moment of retracing his steps and pulling away, __but he could sense __that this meeting was necessary and preordained. He cast out once more with his mind and was immediately rewarded with the sense of the presence he had felt earlier. Identifying the direction of the vibration, he slowly ventured forward though the mist._

_As he continued, the __booming_ _thunder increased in intensity_—_accented with loud claps and crashes of what he assumed to be lightning. Soon, the milky fog __began to dissipate. __He went a few steps further, and the unmistakable form of __Darth Vader materialized __before him—the __back of his helmet __towered above him, his heavy ebony cape swaying __ever so slightly in response to his respirations. __The Sith Lord's body was rigid, his fists firmly resting against the sides of his waist—he could have been a statue if not for the incessant sound of his __respirator._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_Khooh._

_Hiss._

_There was something far different about this encounter—though at first, he was __too __puzzled to understand the change. __He tentatively circled around the Sith to come up to his side. As he did so, he cautiously ventured a probe __to assess __Vader's emotional state. The expected onslaught of hate, anger, __and malice was not there. Instead, __he felt emotions so surprising that he had to __repeat_ _the __inquiry __to make sure he had not misunderstood the results._

_Insidious tendrils of __fear began __clawing hungrily __within his own self as he evaluated the emotions he was clearly detecting. Virulent __feelings __of self-abhorrence flowed unbridled, unfathomable remorse threatened to drag him into the depths of despair—and, __blanketed __strongest over __all else, __was a bitter sense of utter failure_ _that __was __near to __overwhelming. He was intimately familiar with these painful emotions—though at a far lesser intensity. He had been harboring them as well for months._

"_Father?"_

_The __infinitesimal_ _rise __of armored shoulders was all the confirmation he needed. This was not just the mass-murdering monster_ _that __had been known as __the scourge of the galaxy. __Within the imprisoning suite __was __the man who had sacrificed his own life to save __the life of his son…_

_This was Anakin Skywalker—his father._

"_You know what I am about to do, don't you?" __he __inquired of __the broken man he had once dragged through a dying battle station._

_The question hung heavily in the air, unanswered._

"_I won't let you destroy the Republic again," __he __averred. __"I will stop you—any way I can."_

_The thunder around them boomed louder. The ground shook with with each clap. Still, the statuesque form of the enigma before him remained motionless. Realizing that his time was short, he turned and began to move away to continue on his journey. Two steps beyond, he stopped once more and turned one final time to the man who had sired him._

"_Don't make me kill you, please," __he __made one final plea. __"Help me to __save you. Tell me what I must do."_

_The ebony __behemoth__ finally __moved as the armored mask shifted slowly to view him. For a flash of a moment, he no longer simply saw the opaque lenses and sharp __angular __concurs of a hideous __disguise; instead, he saw the same pale face he had __watched __contort with agonizing remorse while gasping for his final breath. __As the dark helm turned away, the illusion was broken and the soulless __mask __returned._

"_Luke," the Dark Lord rumbled. __"Save your mother."_

***

The powerful explosion of energy that rent him back to reality was beyond imagining in its magnitude. It left him momentarily deaf, blind, and senseless. Luke's body slammed onto the cold wet ground with such vehemence that he could feel nearly all his bones rattle from the impact. In the following instant, his body erupted in excruciating pain.

The agony was more intense than he would have ever believed possible for a man to experience. It was as if every cell within him was violently struggling to rip itself apart. For what seemed an eternity, all he could do was lie there, withering in torment, and hope that the internal war being waged within his body would cease in ferocity.

Finally, as his pain ebbed ever so slightly, he became aware of a high-pitched wail filling his ears and reverberating sorely in his brain. The ground around him vibrated intermittently in tune with deafening thunderous booms that repeated sporadically. Wincing, he rolled onto his back and willed his eyes to open. Blinking several times, he tried to orient himself with his surroundings.

The narrow strip of sky above him was framed by the imposing high walls of dingy gray buildings. What he could see of it was filled with ominous, roiling clouds of smoke and laced by red and white streaks of energy. Triangular silhouettes of large battle cruisers were partially discernible through the gray above, and a spread of fireballs and dark chunks of debris was raining down toward the ground. The memory of the space battle he had witnessed just before stepping through the obelisk flashed hazily into his mind. He was dangerously exposed. He needed to get to cover.

A wisp of cold breeze feathered down the length of his body, and he subconsciously reached across with his left hand to pull his robe tighter around him. The shock of feeling only clammy skin when he raked numb, tingling fingers over his forearm caused him to jerk his eyes down to his chest. _Force!_ He was far more exposed than he had originally thought.

Luke clamped his eyes tight and curled his body defensively. The feeling that he was suffocating made him realize that he had stopped breathing. In a desperate response, he gasped deeply for a relieving intake of air. The instant he did so, he regretted the action. His body contorted and began to convulse uncontrollably as he was quickly overtaken by a brutal episode of retching.

He coiled his body tighter in a fetal position as he continued to wither in pain. Through his agony, he fought to focus his mind and reach for the Force to help reduce his excruciating torment. A feral panic seized him with unimaginable dread when his efforts went unanswered. He was blind to the Force. He could feel nothing beyond the pain radiating through his own body. He was totally defenseless.

A guttural moan escaped his lips as he struggled to pull himself up. His effort was met with another series of violent and unproductive heaves. As the spasms finally lessened, his body began to quake violently with exhaustion. Feeling his limbs leaden and his mind dull, he gratefully welcomed the thick, numbing blanket that overtook both body and mind and plunged him into blissful unconsciousness.

***

Tycen Pike didn't think there was anything left in the galaxy that could surprise him. In fact, all the danger of the day had hardly fazed him at all. He wasn't going to let a bunch of walking tin cans keep him from making an honest day's pay.

_Honest…_He chuckled to himself every time he even thought of that word in relation to his actions. His rather dubious past had afforded him a colorful history as he traveled across the galaxy. He had dabbled in just about every type of endeavor—legal and not quite so. Finally getting tired of seeing the inside of a bacta tank more often than any man should, he had opted to give up all the excitement and settle down to a quiet life. That decision had led him to buy this rusted-out heap of an air-taxi and set up shop. He had no complaints—at least, not many.

Instead of whining about his meager existence, he tried to look for the best angle to make a profit from any situation he faced. That was why, when the warning sirens had started blaring and the first bombs had begun to fall, he had not bothered to go to ground with the rest of the sniveling masses. He figured that it would have been little to no loss if a chuck of that burning scrap had managed to land on his head today. He doubted that more than a few others would have even taken notice. Probably his roommates—and maybe his landlord…and then of course, there would be his sister. But she still lived on Axxila, and she wouldn't even find out about what had happened to him until he was long cold and in the ground. No, the only one who'd have been bothered by his demise would be the poor smuck whose job it was to scrape what was left of him off the duracrete. And then again, at least he would be getting paid to do it.

Besides, he smiled derisively; he wouldn't have missed all the excitement for anything. It was truly amazing what a sentient would pay to be scurried off to safety. He had made more than three months' profit in the first few hours of the raid. Today would keep him flush in pittin food and Corellian ale for a very long time. He only wished that his luck had held just a bit longer. Fares had dried up far too quickly for his liking. At least he had the audio broadcasts from the HoloNet news to keep him company as he maneuvered the empty traffic lanes and dodged falling debris…and then there was that landing. He had just happened to be in the right place at the right time to see it, although—with the flaming thing taking up half the sky_—_it would have been pretty hard to miss. Still, bringing in a half a kriffing battle cruiser with no more damage to show for it than a demolished landing tower… that had to have been some flight crew. Tycen shook his head as he marveled at the memory.

Reaching his destination, he disengaged his repuslorlift engines and slowly floated down to the ground. He should have come home hours ago. The battle was over, and the main districts remained locked down in curfew. Ever the optimist, he had been cruising the city in hopes of picking up a few more fares. But as was typical for him—all he had managed to do was waste fuel.

As he eased his way into the back alley where he usually kept his cobbled together source of income, the only things on his mind were thoughts of the warm bowl of rehydrated soup, the cold bottle of ale, and the comforting bed that awaited him. He never expected to see his headlamps reflect off a coiled hunk of flesh lying motionless in his path.

Jerking to an abrupt stop, Tycen stuck his head out the open side window of his taxi.

"Hey, you bum—get out of my parking spot," he gruffly yelled.

Receiving no reply, the stocky cabby quickly extracted himself from his vehicle. With a dizzying flurry of expletives, he trudged up to the figure lying in the middle of the alley. As he reached him, the toe of his scuffed boot connected with a dark hard ball that skittered away toward a large sewer grate. He barely noticed.

"What in the nine hells..." Tycen growled. "You drunk?"

The vulnerable figure only coiled tighter in response to his inquiry.

The burly man looked down at the naked form lying at his feet. Despite the fact that there wasn't a mark on him, the guy acted like he had been trampled by a herd of banthas. From his own experience, Tycen well knew there were plenty of ways to incapacitate a victim without causing physical damage. Whatever had happened here earlier, he was sure it hadn't been pretty. A scrap of memory flashed through his mind, and his scowling frown deepened.

For the first time in a very long while, Tycen Pike found himself in quite a quandary. Whoever this stranger was, it was obvious he needed help. Tycen took a moment and contemplated his options. If he called the security patrol, they would just haul the man off to the detox tank. That was one rancor pit Tycen wouldn't wish on anyone. If Tycen left him here, he could either freeze by morning...or whoever it was that put this guy into such a state might just come back and finish the job.

The gruff man ran a calloused hand over his bald head. In all his years, Tycen had always had a knack with reading people. It had saved his skin more than once during his adventurous past. Even now, working the orange district of Coruscant, he could tell which fares to pick up and which ones to drive past just by a tingling at the back of his neck. Well, that tingling feeling had ratcheted up to full strength right now. He could feel it good and well from the top of his head down to his ass.

Tycen snorted. "I know I'm going to regret this," he grumbled as he dropped his worn, heavy coat over the blond haired man lying on the duracrete.


	14. Chapter 14 The Morning After

_A/N #1: I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy. _

_A/N #2: This story would not be what it is without the help of my very competent beta reader, "Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu". Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated._

_A/N #3: To clear up any confusion, Tycen Pike is an original character. Please continue to review as I so enjoy receiving your feedback._

* * *

**Chapter 14 – The Morning After**

He winced.

It wasn't because he was currently in pain; rather, it was more in deference to the excruciating agony he could still well remember. The soft moan that issued from his raw throat was uttered for the same reason.

The memory of his arrival suddenly swamped him. Another moan escaped his parched lips before he could catch himself and hold it back. The pain in his body had been replaced with only numbness and debilitating exhaustion. He could still feel his insides quaking from the aftermath. Whether it was a result of the violent reaction caused by his entry to this time or was simply fatigue—it mattered little. He was just thankful that at this moment…he no longer hurt.

He felt compelled to inhale deeply, but he worried about what type of reaction that would follow. As he knew he wasn't ready to endure a response similar to the one that had assaulted him the last time he had tried such an endeavor, he determinedly kept his breathing shallow.

It took him a moment to realize that he was no longer curled up on his side, but lying flat on his back. And wherever he was, it was warm and much softer than the cold duracrete… although the uneven lumps beneath his back were making it not that much more comfortable. He shifted slightly, bringing his left hand to his chest to feel a scratchy blanket beneath his fingertips. His lips twitched upward as he issued a quiet sigh of relief.

Feeling no urgent compulsion to open his eyes, he continued to lie still. As his consciousness solidified, he began to tentatively deepen his respirations to replenish the oxygen that his continued trembling indicated his body still apparently needed. Above the throbbing resonating in his head, he could hear a low, guttural growl that seemed to be very close. It wasn't loud…just mildly threatening. Finally willing to accept the consequences, he took one very deep breath. He was greatly relieved that his efforts only caused him to smell the odorous mix of musty furniture, stale ale, and hydraulic fluid.

With some trepidation, he focused his mind to reach for the Force. He staved off his initial stab of panic when he realized that he could only feel the fringes of the Force—he could not access it directly. He reminded himself that this was an improvement over the situation he had faced when he first arrived. Even though the Force refused to respond to his call, it was comforting to know that it was still out there. He took that as an encouraging sign. Maybe his inability to access it was simply an unexpected side-effect of his journey. He hoped so. He didn't want to even consider the added difficulty to his task if he was Force-blind as well.

Finally willing to view his surroundings, he opened his eyes and was met with another set staring down at him. They were brilliant blue and framed by a small, gray, furry face. The shock of the encounter made him jerk back. That motion caused the petite creature to open its mouth wide, revealing needle-sharp teeth. It then issued an irritated hiss and agilely bounded from the padded perch directly above him.

"She doesn't like you," a gruff voice chuckled from across the room.

"Sorry." Luke's voice was raw and strained. The raspy sound of it surprised even him. He raised his right mechanical hand to rub his eyes. He paused for a moment as he gazed at it. Issuing another small sigh of relief at the realization that it was still attached, he continued the movement and then turned toward the direction of the voice.

Luke blinked several times as his eyes focused on a stout man sitting across from him in a worn brown recliner. He looked as if he was in his late fifties. His close-cropped dark hair had receded to ring around the sides of his head, leaving the top shiny and bald. His gray eyes were sharp and his pock-marked features strong. Luke immediately received the impression that this man had seen a great deal of life and had lived it on his own terms.

"Ah, don't sweat it," the man replied as he shifted position in the overstuffed chair. "She's only upset 'cause you're taking up her favorite spot on the couch."

Although still dazed and feeling incredibly weak, Luke strained to pull himself up to a sitting position. He swung his legs to the floor and twisted the thin blanket over his lap as he looked around to see what appeared to be a small apartment. It reminded him somewhat of the cells in the Temple, as the room housed most of the living quarters, even including a small kitchenette against one wall.

Clutter seemed to be the overwhelming theme of the decor. The small dinette table that sat near a half-opened, grime-streaked window was covered with flimsies and empty food containers. There were bundles of mussed clothing scattered about, either covering the few other chairs in the room or simply lying on the floor. Several of the piles were adorned with one or more of the same type of furry creatures as the one that had so warmly welcomed him when he had first opened his eyes.

_Pittins_, Luke reminded himself as he thought back to the one that Leia had given her daughter, Jaina, for her fourth birthday. At least, that was what these creatures somewhat resembled... Though these miniature beasts seemed much more lanky and unkempt than the white puff ball he remembered Mr. Whiskers to have been. These felines apparently shared this abode with the man sitting across from him—though he doubted that anyone else did. He couldn't imagine another person abiding for long in this much disarray.

Luke brought his focus back to the couch on which he was sitting, noting that it was as worn and dingy as the rest of the place. He wasn't surprised to find yet another pittin lying on the far end of the frayed backrest, though this one was black, orange, and white. It looked over its shoulder at him for a moment with appraising green eyes—then, with a flick of an ear, it turned in disinterest and curled tighter on its perch. Luke turned away as well and glanced at the low table in front of him. In the center of the table—amid the disheveled flimsies and empty plates—sat an array of grimy parts and a half-assembled repulsor motivator. That, then, must be the source of the hydraulic fluid odor. He cocked an eyebrow and looked back at the stranger.

"You brought me in here?" Luke croaked. His voice was still terribly shaky—as was the rest of him.

"Couldn't just leave you out there in the alley." The stranger shrugged his shoulders. "I needed to park my taxi—you were in the way."

Luke dropped his head to his chest and ran his fingers through his hair. "Thanks," he mouthed hoarsely.

The man leaned forward and extended his arm. "Name's Tycen Pike."

Luke reached out and grabbed the man's meaty hand. He winced as the movement seemed to amplify the throbbing in his brain and the queasiness in his stomach. "Luke," he responded. Despite his rather vulnerable condition, Luke could not help but feel that he was safe here—at least for the moment.

As he pulled away to lean back against the couch, the same furry beast that had greeted him so vehemently before hopped up onto the worn padded backrest of the couch. She settled down into the same spot as before and glared at him ominously_, _her tail swishing rapidly back and forth.

"All of these yours?" Luke asked as he waved his hand vaguely at the near dozen or so small creatures perched around the room.

"Naw, they don't belong to nobody," the gruff man replied. "Just surviving down here like the rest of us. They come by now and then for an easy meal and a soft place to lay their head."

"I see." Luke's own head was starting to spin again. He leaned forward and placed his face in his palms.

"No, you don't see," Tycen groused from across the room. "They pay their way... I ain't had trouble with vermin for years—least not the four-footed kind." Tycen shifted uneasily again. Luke noted that—despite his crusty attitude—his curmudgeonly benefactor was sharing his seat with a rather plump, striped orange pittin, his stout fingers absently kneading the back of its furry neck.

"Don't think I'm some sort of bleeding heart or nothing for allowing it," Tycen gruffly added as he turned his eyes away from the blond man.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Luke grinned slightly as he continued to gingerly cradle his aching head.

Without lifting his eyes, Luke realized that the other man had moved out of his chair. The echo of footsteps told him that Tycen had made his way to the kitchenette. After a few minutes, Luke listened to the man's approaching footsteps once more. Finally raising his head, he saw Tycen shove a few grimy gears out of the way and place a white mug of steaming caf onto the low table in front of him.

"You probably want something stronger than this," Tycen said. "But it doesn't look like you're in any shape for it."

Luke waved his hand dismissively before reaching out for the cup. "No," he countered. "This is fine. Thank you, again."

Bringing the mug containing the strong brew to his lips, he avoided the missing chip out of the rim and carefully sipped—hoping that his insides had finally had time to settle and now planned to stay in place. Thankfully, the only reaction he received was a warming sensation as the invigorating liquid eased down his raw throat.

"So," Luke ventured as he watched the grizzled man plop back down in the recliner (after carefully moving the plump feline to the side), "other than clearing out your parking space, why did you help me?"

"You reminded me of my sister's boy," Tycen said noncommittally. "Not by looks, mind you."

Luke cocked his head to the side in silence. Even without the Force to help him, he figured that he needed to wait to receive an explanation from the grim-faced man.

"He's a good kid," Tycen elaborated. "Hard working—loyal to a fault, but an honorable sort nonetheless. Back on Axxila—before the war—he signed up with the local navy and became part of their Antipirate fleet. Pirates don't care much for their work—bad for business, if you know what I mean. Anyway, a gang of them scum nabbed Firmus when he was home on leave. Beat him up pretty bad and left him for dead. Somebody found him—got him the help he needed. Saved my sis a lot of grief."

Tycen shrugged and ran a calloused hand over his bald head. "When I saw you there, I just figured I needed to do the same."

"It takes a big man to help a stranger," Luke said. "You're a good person."

"Don't spread it around," the stout man growled. "I've got a reputation to keep!"

A heavy pause fell between the two as Luke continued to sip at his caf. He could feel the other man's stare as he tried to assess what had brought about their unplanned encounter. _If only he knew..._

"Where you from, anyway?" Tycen asked.

Luke frowned. He obviously couldn't tell this man the truth. Besides, whether Tycen believed him or not, Luke was pretty sure that to say "_the future" _would cause him to be tossed right out of that grimy window in the back of the room.

Remembering the few moments of clarity he had experienced in the alley, he was pretty sure that he was now on Coruscant. Something was warning him not to mention that he resided here as well. He wasn't sure of all the differences that existed between the pre-Imperialized planet and how it appeared in his own time—but he didn't want to make his arrival here any more suspect by an inadvertent slip of the tongue.

"Tatooine," Luke finally offered. It was the best answer he could come up with for now.

"You a farmer or a spacer?"

Luke blinked at the man and his directness. "What?"

"I've been to that dustbowl," Tycen grinned derisively. "Ain't nothing but three types crazy enough to live there. You don't look like a hired gun, so you must be one of the other two."

"Farmer," Luke smiled. "At least, I was—once. I've been traveling a lot lately."

"A little old to be out searching for your destiny, don't you think?"

"You have no idea." Luke leaned back into the cushioned couch. His action caused his little gray nemesis to sit up and issue another hiss of disapproval as she swished her tail even more rapidly in annoyance.

"You ain't no high-end diplomat or rich exec type who just got rolled and left for dead are you?" Tycen probed hopefully.

"No." The blond man closed his eyes and rested his head against the frayed backrest.

"That'd be my luck," the older man muttered. "You probably don't have a credit to your name."

"Not at the moment."

"So why did I find you in my alley?" Tycen leaned forward with growing interest.

"Good timing?" Luke proffered a slight grin.

"Damn swoop gangs," The older man scowled as he shook his head cynically. They're getting so bad around here, decent people can't even walk the neighborhood no more... Things were already hard enough in this district—then with the war, everything's gone to Sith Hell."

Luke swallowed hard as he listened to the stern man's assumptions. In a way, Tycen was correct. He did feel as if he had just been pummeled. Even if it had been caused by the mysterious blend of energies that had transported him rather than a group of nefarious street criminals, the incapacitating pain had been just as intense—possibly more so. Still, an inner sense of guilt was stirring him to comment.

"I'm sure it's not that bad," he countered.

"Look who's talking," he huffed. "Don't get me wrong—Coruscant ain't no worse than any other planet. Matter of fact, it's better than most. Just the last few years," Tycen shook his head again in disgust, "everybody's been only looking out for themselves. Seems there ain't nobody left to watch out for the little guy."

Luke furrowed his brow as he contemplated Tycen's words. They felt wrong to him. There shouldn't be such chaos in the streets. Not if he had traveled back to a point before the rise of the Empire. There was still a legitimate government in place to oversee the galaxy, still an open society and unity among sentient species. This was a time before derision and segregation infiltrated down to the populace. When the guardians of the Galaxy remaining strong, and…

"What about the Jedi?" Luke found himself asking.

"What about 'em?" Tycen growled.

"They've pledged themselves to maintaining peace—and they're devoted helping others."

"Great press," Tycen said contemptuously. "Don't you believe it. If you ain't a politician or dignitary, they've got no time for you. They lock themselves away in that pristine temple of theirs and keep their heads in the stars."

Luke frowned. "That's a pretty grim view."

The older man tipped his head to the side in resigned acknowledgment. "At least I don't get disappointed much no more."

Luke simply nodded. His head hurt too much to engage in anything more than cursory conversation.

"Well, I ain't getting rich sitting here." Tycen pulled himself out of the chair and began moving toward what Luke assumed was the exterior door. "Time's credits—if you know what I mean."

Luke jerked forward, regretting the movement immediately as waves of nausea crashed over him. "I'll get out of your way," he winced as the tightened the blanket around him.

"Ah, hells," Tycen shook his head. "Stay here as long as you need—least 'til your head clears. Besides, you really can't go out on the town like that." He smiled, showing gaps between his yellowed teeth.

"Probably not."

The man waved a stout arm in the general direction of the kitchenette. "You may find something in there that won't poison you. Course—you'll need to share with the rest of the house guests."

Luke clamped his jaws tight as he fought for control of his roiling gut. Barely hearing his host's words—and not even wanting to think about food at the moment—he managed to nod numbly.

"Fresher's over there." Tycen jutted his bristled chin toward the back of the room. "And you can put those on." Again, the man tipped his head—this time to a pile of wrinkled clothes lying on the side table next to the couch. "They're clean enough."

Luke tried to express his thanks, but he wasn't willing to trust himself to speak at the moment. He opted for a wave of his hand and another silent nod.

"Don't know why I'm even bothering to go out today," Tycen grumbled as he made his way through the apartment and shrugged on his heavy coat. "Not with the local neighborhoods still locked down in curfew. But with that big hubbub going on at the Senate Plaza, I may still be able to scare up a fare or two." Tycen stopped when he reached the door and turned back toward the blond man, a look of true concern in his gray eyes. "Just take it easy the rest of the day...and don't bother waiting up."

As the apartment door clicked shut, Luke was left to marvel at the conflicting words and actions of his cantankerous host. Without the Force to help him, he couldn't quite come up with a true feel for the man, but he was grateful for the his help nonetheless. Luke wondered if their meeting was purely chance or if Master Hatu had somehow managed to arrange it. He guessed it really didn't matter at this point. Glancing to his left, he narrowed his eyes as he met the hateful stare of the small gray creature scowling at him, her blue eyes glowing like the…

Luke was instantly seized with a stab of panic. His mind snapped to the thought of the crystal globe whose safe possession had been stressed to him by both B-Tak and Master Hatu. Dismissing his maladies for the moment, he began frantically riffling through the clutter around the couch and tables in desperate hope of finding it. His frenzied search only managed to once again irritate the little gray pittin. She hissed and swatted at him aggressively as he tousled the couch cushions.

It wasn't here! He sank back down in the couch and groaned as he cradled his throbbing head and rested his elbows on his knees. What was he going to do now? The thought of rushing out of the apartment to search the alley where he had arrived came crashing into his brain, but he didn't know where, exactly, that location would be. It had to be close by, but how would he be able to distinguish it from the other dingy back streets he imagined existed in the area? He had his doubts that he would even recognize it.

In addition, stumbling around the neighborhoods of Coruscant in only a worn blanket would definitely attract attention. He could not afford that. He would have to wait until Tycen returned. Hopefully, the man would remember seeing the globe. If not…Luke really didn't even want to contemplate what that would mean at the moment. He glanced once more at the little gray beast glowering at him.

"Don't get too comfortable," Luke warned as he waggled a finger at the furry beast. "I'll be back." He slowly stood up on shaky legs. Wrapping the blanket tightly around him and holding it securely with one hand, he reached over and grabbed the pile of donated clothes with the other. Leaning heavily on the furniture as he passed by, he made his way to the fresher.

***

Luke leaned heavily against the age-yellowed ceramic tile and let the steaming water run over his head and back. Despite the fact that he did not have access to the Force, the hot shower was doing an amazing job of clearing his muddled senses. Along with endeavoring to bring back his clarity, he was using this time to contemplate his most recent visions. This was, after all, his first opportunity to do so, and he was taking full advantage of it.

Although he would be just as content to dwell on the blissful memories of the few precious moments he had spent with Mara, he knew there was so much more content in his vision to deal with. No matter how comforting her words were, they had been steeped in mystery. The same went for the location of their encounter. Even if Mara had not stressed for him to remember the scenes, he was certain that the images of that peaceful meadow, the dramatic waterfalls, and the majestic lake house would be emblazoned in his memory for quite some time. How could that location be his beginning? He had never seen any planet as beautiful as that before. Even now, he wasn't sure that it could even be a real place. Luke closed his eyes and grimaced. If only he could figure out what it all meant.

The puzzling meeting with his father was also weighing heavily on his mind. The odd sensations that he had experienced when he had first stepped into the obelisk would not release him. It had felt as if he had entered the Force itself. Maybe that was why he was so sure that what had occurred was not simply a memory-influenced vision. The ebony clad man he had come upon _was _his father. He was positive that the encounter was real. At least as real as what he had experienced when he had once talked to the essence of old Ben on Dagobah.

What troubled him the most, however, was his father's terse reply to his inquiry. Luke had asked him point blank how to help him—how to prevent his fall to the Dark Side. Instead of responding to Luke's question, he had simply said: "_Save your mother_." The more Luke thought about the exchange, the more frustrated he became.

Why couldn't his father have just answered the question? If Luke only knew the reason for Anakin's downfall, he would do all in his power to prevent it from happening. After his talk with Master Hatu, he was slowly coming to the realization that this path was the one that his heart truly wanted to follow. But with no information to guide him, he was totally impotent to intercede.

Trying to analyze the exchange logically, he wondered if his father's answer had been his own enigmatic way of telling his son that nothing could be done. But if Anakin Skywalker's fall was inevitable, he should have just said so. Then, at least, Luke could figure out a way to get to Mustafar and follow through with his original plan.

Luke exhaled heavily to try and release some of his building anxieties. He let his mind drift to calmer thoughts about his mother. He knew nothing about her other than that she had died shortly after he and Leia were born. He had no idea how, why, or where she had passed. If his father's words had simply been uttered as one last self-sacrificing act to rectify the remnants of a shattered family, then why hadn't he at least given Luke her name? Without even that knowledge, Luke had no clue as to how to find her.

He realized that the one person who would know the most about his mother would be his father himself. But the thought of encountering him seemed to only bring back the queasiness to his insides that he thought his hot shower had dissipated. How would he even approach the man? What would he say? How could he possibly introduce himself? A smile creased his lips at the thought of the absurdity of their first meeting: _"__Hello, __Father. __I'm your forty-eight year-old son who hasn't been born yet..." _Luke groaned aloud at the thought. If someone would ever approach him in a like manner, his first instinct would be to bolt away from the lunatic. He didn't even want to imagine what reaction he would receive from a man half his age. No, even without access to the Force, Luke knew with every fiber of his being that he could not rush right out and confront his father. He had to be patient—although he had always struggled to be so.

Feeling the water temperature begin to cool, Luke shut off the faucet and stepped out of the shower. Drying himself with a thin towel he had found crammed into a small linen closet, he quickly began to dress. The donated clothes that had been left for him were actually clean—but they were incredibly wrinkled. Although both men were about the same height, Tycen had several inches of girth on Luke. At least the belt that had been with the pile was cinch style. Luke pulled it tight to take up the excess waistband, leaving the tails of the white button-down shirt to hang freely over it.

Wiping the steam off the small cracked mirror over the sink, Luke looked at his reflection and frowned. He appeared nearly as ragged as he felt. His complexion was visibly pale and hallow. Although the dark smudges had lessened, his eyes were still reddened and puffy. His beard had gone a full week without trimming and only added to his disheveled, vagrant appearance.

He began to rake his partially dried hair off his forehead with his fingers, but he stilled his hand before doing so. Leia had been correct when pointing out that he hadn't worn his hair this long in decades. He noted with some surprise that it had grown long enough for the ends to once again curl slightly at the nape of his neck. Without the usual dressing to keep it orderly and swept back, his untamed blond locks hung naturally down over his ears, hiding most of his gray as it did so. His bangs covered his eyebrows and nearly fell into his eyes. A twinge of vanity caused him to realize that it did make him look far younger than his forty-eight years.

When he had last worn his hair like this, he had still been a rebel—a reckless youth who acted first and thought about the consequences later, an idealistic dreamer who sought adventure and excitement around every turn. That adolescent version of Luke Skywalker would have jumped at this opportunity to change the past. The mature relic that stared back from within the mirror wondered if that irrepressible youth still dwelled somewhere in his heart.

To help him accomplish this absurd task, Luke was sure he would somehow need to resurrect that ambitious youthful side again. He pulled his hand away and looked deeply into his reflection. He would leave his hair alone… for now. It might inspire his younger self to make an appearance when he would be needed most.

Luke stepped back into the main room of the apartment and glanced around. He had no desire to even look at food at the moment, so he avoided the side of the room that housed the small kitchenette. What did catch his attention, however, was the antiquated communications terminal sitting in the opposite corner. He walked the few paces it took to cover the distance and pulled out the chair to allow him access to the input terminal. The motion disturbed the black and white pittin who had been stretched out across the padded seat cushion, causing it to mew loudly as it lazily hopped away.

Sitting down in front of the terminal, he glanced over the equipment. Even in this time, he was sure that it would be considered out-dated and nearly obsolete. Turning it on, it seemed he needed to wait an exorbitant length of time before fuzzy blue images formed onto the wall-mounted screen. As soon as he figured that they had become as clear as they would get, he began scanning through the HoloNet channels. He was not sure what he would find, but any information he could glean from the current broadcasts would probably help him better acclimate to his surroundings.

Luke reclined back in the chair as he noted channel after channel was filled with rehashed images of the space battle and subsequent planetary bombardment that had been taking place during his arrival. Master Hatu had definitely found an appropriate distraction; it seemed that the entire galaxy had been preoccupied with the events of the confrontation. As he continued to watch the progression of images and listen to the accompanying reporter's commentary, he soon realized why...

_"...emergency crews are still searching for survivors throughout the most devastated sectors of Coruscant," _a blue skinned Twi'lek female reported as she stood in front of a smoldering mass of burning wreckage. _"There are still only preliminary reports available regarding the toll of causalities related to this vile Separatist attack, but they will be far less than what would have occurred without the valiant efforts of our own 'Hero With No Fear…'" _

Luke stiffened and drew himself to attention at the mention of his father's rather illustrious title. He leaned forward as he tried to better view the blurry images of the transmission.

"…_Behind me is all that remains of the _Invisible Hand_—the flagship of the Separatist fleet. It is actually only half of the original super-structure, however. Damaged beyond measure by an onslaught of Republican battle cruisers, it had broken apart in the upper atmosphere and was hurling down to one of the most populated sectors of the planet. Without intervention, the burning wreckage would have destroyed much of the Senatorial Sector. If it were not for the actions of Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, the Republic would never be the same..."_

Luke shifted uncomfortably at the reporter's prophetic statement. He brought a hand up to rub over his face for a moment before focusing once again on the transmission.

"…_Once again, we present our own exclusive footage of the most extraordinary event to have occurred in a millennia—and one of the most amazing feats of skill and piloting that this reporter has ever had the privilege to witness…"_

The Twi'lek continued speaking. As she did, the video feed changed to a replay of a giant battle cruiser glowing brightly from its entry into the atmosphere, flames and chunks of debris splintering off behind it as it careened down toward the surface of Coruscant.

"…_According to the official account as released by the Chancellor's office, Knight Skywalker—along with his wingman—boarded the enemy ship despite the continual heavy bombardment by the Republican fleet. With no concern for his own safety, brave __Skywalker __fought his way through countless battalions of battle droids and rushed to save our cherished leader from his bonds._ _Once our beloved Supreme Chancellor was safe, it was left to General Skywalker to save hundreds of thousands of innocent Coruscanti lives by practically single-handedly piloting the remnants of the disabled ship to a safe landing in an unpopulated industrial area…"_

The Holo images switched to focus on the reporter once again.

"…_Despite the long established policy of the Jedi to refuse the recognition of individual acts performed by any member of their Order, our benevolent Supreme Chancellor has insisted on honoring the heroic deeds of this one extraordinary Jedi Knight. We take you now—live—to the courtyard of the Galactic Senate for the ceremony…"_

Luke leaned back in the chair once more and looked away from the flickering blue images. He stroked his beard distractedly as he mulled over what he had just seen. He had arrived in the middle of the battle of Coruscant—the last desperate action taken by the Separatist insurgency before the end of the Clone Wars.

Luke rummaged through his mind to freshen his memories of what he had been taught of the battle from his schooldays. He vaguely remembered learning of then-Chancellor Palpatine's kidnapping and eventual rescue by the Clone Army, but there had never been any mention of Jedi intervention in the incident. He had also found no record of it in the Jedi Archives—or any mention of the ceremony he was now watching. He furrowed his brow as he began concentrating once again on the transmission. His jaw clenched tightly and his still tender stomach flipped as he noted the speaker standing at the podium.

Luke did not need to read the caption along the bottom of the screen to recognize the (soon to be declared) Emperor making his grandiose speech. Although Palpatine was much younger and unravaged in appearance, Luke could clearly recognize the evil being disguised within. Even listening to the strong voice, he could hear a hint of the vile creature he had faced more than a quarter-century ago.

What he marveled at now was that no one else standing on the platform apparently saw it. The disguised Sith was surrounded by dignitaries. Standing to his right were several apparent Senators and diplomats. To his left was the unmistakable image of Master Yoda. Next to him was an imposing, bald, dark-skinned man who by appearance must have been another Jedi Master. Although both Jedi wore shuttered expressions that indicated their feelings of unease, Luke wondered if it was due to their close proximity to the undeclared Sith or merely due to their displeasure in being required to attend such a display of accolade to begin with.

As Palpatine rambled through the details of his abduction and ultimate rescue, the camera panned back to reveal two additional figures standing on the steps just below and to the left of the podium. The shorter of the two appeared to be older and wore a well trimmed beard. He was dressed in the traditional light-colored Jedi uniform. The tall man next to him wore a similar cut of clothes, but they were much darker. As the camera began to close in on the two Jedi, Luke's eyes widened as the blurriness of the transmission sharpened and he recognized the taller man by the same strong features he had once viewed fleetingly so long ago in the Endor forest.

"He's so young..." Luke whispered aloud.

His father's image was undeniable. Seeing him now only reminded Luke how close in age he currently appeared to be to his nephew, Jacen. But it wasn't the appearance of Anakin Skywalker that had captured his attention and caused him to utter his disbelief aloud. Instead—Luke was mesmerized by the other man standing at his father's side.

Although he didn't need the confirmation, Luke couldn't help but grin when the captions flashed along the bottom of the screen that officially identified the two as Generals Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker. As the camera moved back once again, Luke kept his eyes set on the image of the man who he would come to know as a reclusive hermit living on the edge of the Jundland Wastes, the man who would rescue him from a scouting party of Tusken Raiders and first introduce him to the world of the Jedi, the man who he would helplessly watch be cut down by the blade of Darth Vader. Here he was—so very much alive and appearing to be quite enjoying himself. Unlike Master Yoda and the mysterious dark-skinned counterpart, Ben's demeanor was much more relaxed and almost... prideful.

Watching the pair of Jedi, Luke was sure that there was some silent communication transpiring between the two men... He noted the uneasy shifting of his father's posture and the sidelong glances he made to the man standing next to him. The more Ben nodded and wistfully smiled at the taller man, the more self-conscious and uncomfortable Anakin seemed to become. His nervous appearance was the last thing that Luke would ever expect to see from the future Darth Vader.

Keeping his attention on the images of Obi-Wan and his father, Luke barely noticed that Chancellor Palpatine had finished his speech and relinquished his position on the podium. Luke silently admonished himself for being so distracted and re-focused his attention on the proceedings as another dignitary adorned in fine silks made his way to the microphone. The caption along the bottom of the screen displayed the name Bail Organa and his title of Senator and Viceroy of Alderaan. Luke leaned forward to try to better make out the man's features. So this was Leia's adoptive father. The tall, dark-haired man began praising the efforts and accomplishments of the Jedi Order.

As Organa's political pandering continued, Luke could not help but allow his attention to lapse once more. He never could bring himself to attentively listen to political speeches; Leia had chided him about that deficiency for years. Instead, he turned his attention back to the two Jedi standing on the steps. Even through the HoloNet camera's eye, it was so very clear from the way these men stood and the way they silently interacted that these two were more than comrades—they were friends—brothers… What had gone so horribly wrong? Luke was so absorbed by his thoughts that he almost missed when the tall Senator moved away from the podium and passed over a rolled flimsy containing a proclamation from the Galactic Senate into the outstretched hand of General Kenobi.

It wasn't until the next presenter made her way to stand in front of the podium that Luke's attention was pulled away from the two Jedi and directed back to the event at hand. In the background, he could still hear Senator Organa expounding the brave actions of the Jedi. However, Luke's eyes were drawn in wonder to the young woman standing in the center of the screen. She was adorned in an extravagant outfit accentuated by an impossibly full hoop skirt and an intricately complex hairstyle. His breath caught in his throat when her name, Padmé Amidala, Senator from Naboo, appeared under her image. If he didn't know better, he would have thought her to be a younger version of Leia.

As the scene continued on the display monitor, a young Anakin stepped forward, bent down on one knee, and dutifully lowered his head. The Nabooian Senator gracefully placed a commemorative medallion around his neck. Then, just as quickly it had begun, the moment was over. Senator Amidala stepped back to her place on the side of the stage. His father rose to full height and bowed—first to the Chancellor, then to the assembled crowd, and finally to the beautiful young Senator.

As the presentation unfolded, Luke became distracted once again by his own thoughts of a similar award ceremony back on Yarvin IV. It was now only a distant memory. The event had been hastily put together shortly after the destruction of the Death Star. He and Han had been awarded medals similar to what he had watched the young Senator present to the Jedi Knight. Luke could still remember how he had been so full of the euphoria of victory—so swept up by the thrill of adventure and ecstasy of success. It had only been later when the reality of the death and destruction caused by his actions had come crashing down upon him.

With his mind entangled in his own memories, Luke failed to notice how his father's appearance and mannerisms had changed dramatically as soon as the young man's eyes met those of the petite Senator—and how Anakin no longer acted as someone wishing to be anywhere else, how the galaxy that surround the two of them seemed to simply melt away.

If he had been paying attention, Luke might have also noted how the young Senator seemed to rest her small hands on his father's broad shoulders just a hair longer than necessary when draping the medallion around his neck—or seen the slight blush that reddened the beautiful young woman's features in response to his father's lopsided grin as stepped back to his place. Too busy mulling over his own memories, Luke saw none of it.

Only when the HoloNet camera pulled away to show the surging crowd inhabiting the plaza—and heard the Twi'lek reporter once again began her commentary—did Luke emerge from his reverie. He pulled himself out of the chair and absently waved a hand toward the monitor. He winced when he realized that nothing had happened and then leaned over to manually flip the monitor off. Although only a minor inconvenience, his inattentive action had clearly demonstrated how much he relied on the Force for even the most menial tasks. He could only hope that this temporary period of adjustment would quickly dissipate so that he could access it freely once more.

Moving slowly, he walked to the center of the room and sat down heavily on the worn couch. He braced his elbows on his knees and ran his fingers through his graying hair. There were so many questions flooding his mind. There was so much that he needed to know—and know quickly. He needed to understand how Palpatine could move around freely in the company of so many Jedi without raising suspicion. He needed to discover why the young Jedi Knight who he had just watched uncomfortably fidget about with self-conscious nervousness would soon became the most fearsome enmity in the galaxy. And thinking back to his father's admonition, he needed to discover the identity of his own mother and find a way to protect her as well.

Luke dropped his hands and heaved a sigh. He scanned the dingy apartment once more, noting that his little gray nemesis had apparently had enough of his company and abandoned the apartment to brave the streets of Coruscant. He grinned derisively. He wouldn't be missing her company.

His eyes focused on the partially assembled motivator on the table in front of him. He assumed that it must be a replacement part for Tycen's air-taxi. He noted with some interest that the model appeared to be very similar to the motivators used in the oldest vaporators he had maintained back on the farm on Tatooine. Luke reached forward to grab an oil-soaked rag and one of the gears that had lain on the table.

As he began to clean the grime-covered part, he reviewed what he had just seen transpire. Above all else that he had observed, his mind continued to be drawn back to the image of Ben—Obi-Wan Kenobi. He had been his father's Master—had trained him for years. Their close relationship was explicitly obvious to the most naïve observer. He _had _to know more about his father than anyone else. Remembering back to the far older version of the man that he had known, Luke could clearly recall the shattered spirit, the deep remorse that filled the man's eyes. Ben had greatly suffered from both guilt and regret for losing Anakin to the Dark Side. Luke could commiserate with him completely; as he was sure he shared similar feelings regarding his failure with Jacen. If only someone had warned him…

Luke started at the comprehension of his thoughts. That was it. That was the direction that he needed to follow. He needed to warn Obi-Wan about Anakin's future fate. He was sure that the man he once knew would do everything in his power to help his virtual brother. He just needed to be enlightened to the threat.

Of course, coming into close proximity to a Jedi Master was totally against the Temporal Ward's warning. He had no idea if his "personal vibration relative to that of his surroundings_"_ had yet stabilized. With his Force sensitivity continuing to be basically non-existent, he seriously doubted it. But even if Obi-Wan discovered that he had broken galactic law and traveled through time, would he turn Luke in to the authorities? Luke was sure that the old man he had fleetingly known wouldn't, but he had no idea how this younger version of that man felt about circumventing established laws. But if Luke could be convincing enough in his argument and impart the dire urgency behind his mission, could Obi-Wan be persuaded to focus on the greater good rather than the method he had used to get here? Would the Jedi Master help him save the Galaxy?

Coming to a decision, Luke realized that own safety in regards to the magnitude of what needed to be accomplished mattered little. He had to do all he could to correct the timeline and prevent the coming disasters—and logically, this was the best path to follow. He had to put his trust in a man he wouldn't officially meet for nearly twenty years.

Luke picked up a hydrospanner from the table in front of him and began to re-attach the cleaned gear back onto the half-assembled motivator. He knew that his mechanical tinkering would help him focus on the details of his new plan. His overall goals were set. First thing tomorrow morning, he would locate the alley where he arrived and retrieve the crystal orb, and then he would go to the Jedi Temple and find a way to contact Obi-Wan Kenobi.


	15. Chapter 15 Dead Ends and Misdirections

_A/N #1: I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy. _

_A/N #2: This story would not be what it is without the help of my very competent beta reader, "Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu." Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated._

_A/N #3: Thank you to everyone who left reviews for the last chapter. I really enjoy receiving them. Although I have answered all signed reviews privately, here are my responses to the anonymous reviews that were received: To _**sweetnorcute**_: I am not sure that Luke will be quite that blunt. He wants his help, not to bowl him over with shock. To _**Luke Lover**_: You are correct. Tycen's nephew is the future Admiral Piett. Firmus won't be making an appearance, though. It was just a way to slip one of my favorite minor characters into the story. And finally to _**Darth Kiryan**_: I am glad that you stuck around. I hope that you will continue to enjoy this story…now that 'the good stuff has arrived'._

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**Chapter 15 – Dead Ends and Misdirections**

Luke exhaled heavily as he stepped around the corner for the third time. He stopped his long trek when he reached the plaza at the base of the steps that led to the front entrance of the massive building. Once again, his eyes scanned the impressive stone statues, the intricately designed stained-transpasteel windows, and the ornately carved wooden doors housed under the columned portico. When Tycen had stated that the Jedi had locked themselves away in their Temple, Luke had simply thought that the pessimistic cabby had meant that they were no longer attentive to the local concerns of the planet. He had never believed that the man's words were to be taken literally. But the evidence he had discovered with his two trips around the enormous complex was undeniable. Every door he had found had been just as tightly locked and imposing as the next. Obviously, Luke's assumption had been wrong. The Jedi Temple was currently an inaccessible fortress.

Luke raised his hand to shield away the late-morning glare as he peered back up toward the impenetrable barrier before him. He could not help but feel a sense of awe as he did so. The Jedi Temple was absolutely magnificent. It was not the broken and derelict building that he had re-opened and spent the last decade helping to renovate. Instead, this was the iconic symbol of strength and power that had stood strong for thousands of years. It was truly a beacon of peace and justice in the galaxy.

Luke just regretted that his Force sensitivity was still so blatantly abysmal. He would have given almost anything to sense the intense energy that he imagined currently surrounded him. The feelings emanating from such a large number of Jedi gathered in one location must have been impressive.

He also wondered how his own presence was being perceived. The uneasy thought made him swallow hard. At least he had not been rushed by a group of lightsaber-wielding Jedi Masters. Of course, if that did happen, it might lead to a way of at least gaining access into the Temple.

He shifted uneasily to try and relieve the discomfort of his throbbing feet. It wasn't fatigue that had caused them to ache. Rather, it was due to sloshing around in the oversized boots that Tycen had given him. The two pairs of thick, woolly socks that he had donned were only partially helping take up the excess space. He should have added another pair, but he was already feeling guilty enough by taking the offered clothing from his impromptu benefactor without going to excess.

Pulling his hand down to rub over his bearded chin, he shook his head in disgust and bit his lower lip. The thought that he was being barred entrance from the one place he most wanted to be was disconcerting. Logically, he understood that the offence was not directed at him personally, but just the idea that he was being excluded from his own home… Well, Luke reckoned that it was probably a good thing that he would never be able to divulge any of the details of his trip back in time. If Kyp ever found out about Luke's current predicament, he would never let him live it down. Luke vowed silently that even if he faced prosecution once he returned to his own time, this would be one part of his testimony that he would definitely omit.

Of course, he shouldn't be too surprised by his continuing misfortune. His day had not been going at all as he had planned. Once he had found the location of his initial arrival, Luke had spent well over an hour scouring the dank, deserted alley as he hunted for the missing crystal globe. The gruff cabby had not been much help, as he had not remembered seeing the orb. Though Luke had patiently tried to describe the object, he had been hesitant to belabor the point. He didn't want to raise any additional suspicion above what their odd meeting had already induced.

Once he had finally resigned himself to the stark reality that the globe was no longer within his reach, he could do nothing more than move on to his next pressing issue. Despite the warning he had received from B'Tak about staying away from Force-sensitives, he had felt pressed to come here. He had to try to contact Master Kenobi. All through yesterday afternoon and evening—as he was working on the repulsor motivator in the cluttered apartment—Luke had busied his mind with scenarios as to how he would approach the Jedi and introduce himself... And how he would explain his unique presence and less than stellar appearance. Most importantly, however, he had thought about what he could say to convince the man of the grave danger that loomed around them. Reluctantly, however, he was just about to concede that his well-rehearsed lines had been contrived for naught. He wouldn't be able to use them if he couldn't even contact the man.

Pushing his musings aside, he climbed the daunting tiers of stairs until he came to the ornately carved wooden doors that graced the main entrance. Luke reached out as he had on his first two excursions to the front of the building and took hold of one of the heavy gilded handles. He found the door still securely locked. He moved to the next panel and confirmed the same to be true. By the time he reached the last secured door, the frown on his face had turned to a true scowl.

He began to turn to leave when the door three panels away quickly opened and a young human boy rushed out and began descending the steps. He appeared to be barely in his early teens and wore the traditional Jedi uniform of a beige and brown tunic and leggings. His dark hair was closely cropped except for a long, thin braid that hung behind his right ear and lay in front of his shoulder. By his appearance, he was obviously a young Padawan. The leather pouch that was securely tucked under his arm indicated that he must have been assigned courier duty.

"Excuse me," Luke called to the boy before he got too far down the steps.

"Who, me?" the youth swung around, startled—as if he had never expected to be addressed in such a way.

"Yes, you," Luke smiled disarmingly as he descended the stairs to stand in front of the lad. "I was hoping that you could help me."

"Ah, I'm kind of busy, sir," the boy nervously stated. His eyes darted apprehensively down to the plaza as well as back to the now-closed door.

The older man could not help but smile at the consternation that flashed over the lad's flushed face. He reminded Luke very much of an older version of Caleb Zarms.

"I won't take much of your time," Luke tried to calm the boy's concerns. "I just need to know how to gain access into the Temple."

"The Temple is closed, sir," the youth replied apprehensively. "The public hasn't been allowed in since the start of the war."

"I see," Luke frowned. "Then how can I arrange an appointment to speak with one of your Masters?"

"You can't!" The boy's rushed answer was almost defensive in tone.

"Can't?" Luke crossed his arms over his chest in dismay. "I have some very important information which must reach a member of your Jedi Council. Surely there is a way to talk with someone—to pass along a message."

"Not really, sir."

"You're saying that the Jedi speak to no one outside their Order?" Luke raised an eyebrow. To find that the Order was so isolated… It was very disturbing news.

"The Council only meets with the Chancellor and members of the Senate—and the clones, of course," the Padawan nervously explained.

Luke's frown deepened.

"You may want to try to talk to your system's representative, sir," the youth offered. "Maybe they could help you get a message to the Council."

"Thank you for the suggestion," Luke smiled and nodded at the boy.

"I really must be going." The Padawan backed away a few steps. Saying no more, he turned and ran down the stairs to the wide plaza. The dark-haired youth quickly disappeared around the corner, fully focused on his pressing errand.

Finding himself alone on the steps once more, Luke ran his fingers through his roguishly long locks. He was pretty sure that he had added a few more gray hairs to his collection since stepping through the obelisk. And if this current perplexing problem was any indication, he was bound to acquire many more before his mission was over_._

Defeated, Luke turned and began descending the steps. Maybe a third trip around the building would produce better results. In fact, maybe he should try to go down into the underground—to the service entrances…

"Hey, farmer!"

The loud shout in a recognizably crusty voice knocked Luke out of his thoughts. He looked up to see the familiar shiny bald head of Tycen Pike leaning out the front window of his descending air taxi.

"Out on the town again, I see," the cabby chided.

Since the moment his opinionated benefactor had found him in his rather vulnerable state, Tycen had assumed that Luke had been a haplessly naïve tourist with a poor sense of direction and timing who had accidentally wandered into the wrong part of town. It was a rather convenient cover—and one that Luke was not about to contradict.

"Don't know what kind of travel brochure you got your hands on," the gruff man chuckled. "But there ain't been much to see 'round here for years."

"I seem to have found that out," Luke shrugged. "How's the motivator?" He quickly changed the subject.

Tycen's smile broadened markedly, the gaps in his yellow teeth clearly visible. "Purrs like a pittin."

"Good to hear," the blond man replied.

Luke had nearly forgotten how much he enjoyed fixing things. The ability to do so had always come easy to him. Even when working on unfamiliar equipment, the assorted parts seemed to simply fall into their proper place. That was how it had felt yesterday. The gears and component chips that had been laid out before him had fit together with little thought. He hadn't even realized the time he had spent on the project until Tycen came back to the apartment around midnight. By then, the motivator was completely rebuilt.

First light had found Luke crawling around under Tycen's air speeder installing the refurbished part. Despite needing to get started on his own pressing mission, he had felt it important to take the time to first repay the man who had probably saved his life. Besides, he had found it incredibly rewarding when the stout cabby had started the engine and the rebuilt motivator had hummed to life. It was good to get his hands dirty again, although it appeared that the poncho that he still wore had taken the brunt of the grime.

"Hey," Tycen began, "you need a lift?"

"Doesn't really matter," Luke shook his head. "I'm a little short on credits at the moment—"

"Don't I know it," Tycen interjected. "Forget the fare." He waved his meaty arm and motioned for Luke to join him. "Come on. Fixing this heap earns you a free pass anywhere on the planet."

Luke stood still for a moment as he contemplated the offer. He glanced back to the front of the Temple as he suddenly felt an uncomfortable chill run down his spine. He stiffened as his body tensed with anxiety. Was he finally acclimating to his surroundings so that the Force was beginning to make its way back into his consciousness? He wasn't sure. But something had just happened. He instantly felt very uncomfortable and vulnerable standing here on the plaza.

Turning away from the Temple, Luke squinted as he looked toward the horizon to a large domed building that sat low against the skyline. Maybe there was merit to the young Padawan's suggestion. Remembering what he had seen yesterday on the HoloNet broadcast, he was suddenly struck with an idea—and a new destination. He glanced once more towards the locked doors above him and again experienced the unsettling feeling he still could not define. Making his mind up, he turned back toward Tycen.

"I think I'll take you up on that offer," Luke replied and quickly stepped into the back seat of the taxi.

Tycen twisted his stout body and leaned over the backrest of the front seat. "Where to?" he grinned.

"How about the Senate building?"

The cabby's eyebrows rose as he shook his head in disbelief. "Geez, first the Jedi Temple, now the Galactic Senate… Not my idea of a pleasure trip," he said as he turned his back on his passenger. "Hope you know what you're doing." Without waiting for a response, Tycen engaged the repulsor engines, and the air taxi slowly rose from the ground.

As the antiquated speeder joined the busy traffic lanes, Luke hazarded one last glance at the Temple and shuddered. "So do I," he whispered.

***

The tall Jedi crossed his arms and leisurely leaned his shoulder against the wide window frame. He continued to intently watch the exchange on the plaza below between the apparent vagabond and the bald-headed cabby. The odd vibration that he had been sensing through the Force had brought him to this vestibule just a few moments ago. He had been actually feeling the disquieting sensation for quite some time, but it had been indistinct and seemed to travel around the building.

When he had finally sensed it settle toward the front of the Temple, he had felt compelled to investigate. Whatever this unsettling sensation was, he didn't think that it was dangerous—at least not yet. But it definitely was insistent for his attention.

As the young Jedi approached the window, his eyes had been immediately drawn to the shabbily dressed blond-haired man who stood in apparent agitation near the front steps. Street people and beggars were a common sight in the district. But most of the transients that lived in the area no longer bothered to come to the Temple. Since the doors had been permanently locked, there was little profit to be made by panhandling here, as the local foot traffic had all but dried up.

There was something especially odd about this vagrant, the Jedi thought. As he watched the bearded man, he was certain that finding an easy hand-out was the last thing on the unkempt man's mind. He was just about to make his way down the three levels to the main foyer and investigate when the suspicious drifter turned and entered the air-taxi.

The darkly clothed Jedi straightened and clenched his jaw tightly. His facial muscles rippled along his clean-shaven cheeks. A simple vagrant would not opt to spend his meager stash of credits on taxi fare. There was something very disturbing about what had just transpired. The niggling sensation he had been feeling all morning immediately intensified. He would need to keep an eye out for this mysterious man.

***

"Do you have an appointment, sir?"

"Ah, no..." Luke looked down to the nameplate sitting on the front of the ornately carved desk, "Moteé, is it?" He tendered his most disarming smile toward the petite young woman. "I just arrived on Coruscant, and I have an urgent message to relay. It is imperative that I speak with the Senator."

"The Senator's calendar is quite full, sir," the young woman continued her effort to dissuade the rather roguish looking man. "There may not be time available to see you."

Luke still wasn't quite sure why he had chosen to come to this particular office. The decision to initially try and see Senator Organa had been near automatic. He had somehow felt a connection to the man—probably because of all that Leia had told him about her adopted father. That—along with seeing him at the ceremony and hearing his speech about the Jedi—had made Luke certain that he could garner the Alderaanian's help in contacting Ben.

Of course, he had never expected to run up against the hawkishly gaunt woman who obviously presided over the Senator's staff. He had barely stepped into the office before he felt the oppressive presence of two blue-robed Senatorial guards who had been summoned to escort him away. He had nearly left the building in defeat until he had remembered the other Senator that he had seen at the presentation ceremony yesterday. At that point, what he now believed was his reawakening Force sensitivity had seemed to urge him to make this one last attempt.

"I'll wait." Luke again smiled at the young woman. He backed away from her desk and crossed the room to the sitting area that made up the rest of the antechamber in the spacious Senatorial office.

Easing down into one of the plush, overstuffed chairs, Luke brought his hands up and took a moment to rub over his face. Exhaling heavily, he leaned back into the soft cushions and glanced over to the petite receptionist across the room. The young woman quickly diverted her eyes and busied herself with her regular duties.

Well, he could at least take some encouragement that he had gotten this far. The receptionist had not called for security—not yet, anyway. Still, he wasn't at all sure that his _urgent message_ and plea of _imperative need _would make much headway in receiving an audience with the Senator from Naboo.

With no real interest, Luke glanced around the large office. He noted the life-sized portrait of Senator Amidala that hung behind the receptionist's desk next to the oversized arched doorway that undoubtedly led to her private office. The HoloNet cameras had not done the woman justice, Luke surmised. The image depicted in the portrait was absolutely stunning.

Following along the wall, Luke's attention was captured by the portrait hanging on the opposite side of the door. He straightened uncomfortably and suppressed the frown that wanted to form on his lips as he recognized the oil-painted image of the Supreme Chancellor. Palpatine _was _a native of Naboo. Luke supposed that he shouldn't be too surprised to find the man's portrait here. Still, Luke seriously regretted that the artist who had created the the museum-quality work had been so skilled. Seeing the lifelike eyes of disguised Sith's effigy fixed in his direction was wholly unnerving. Of course, these painted representations were nothing like the menacing, hate-filled eyes that had maniacally glared at him so many years ago. Those had been Sithly yellow.

Luke forced himself to look away from the portrait. He was letting his memories fuel his anxieties. Contemplating the situation, Luke belatedly realized that he should never have asked Tycen to bring him to the Senate. He had recklessly jeopardized everything by coming here; he could ill afford to wait around until he was discovered. Luke knew that the smartest thing that he could do right now was to just get up and make a hasty exit out of the building. But still, he didn't move. It was simply not in his nature to give up so easily once he had set out on a mission. He needed to contact and warn Obi-Wan. Convincing the fair Senator of his urgent plight and securing her assistance may be his only hope in accomplishing that task.

He shifted in the thickly cushioned chair. At least he could take some comfort in noting that he did not sense either a lurking threat or imminent danger. Of course, considering his current compromised state, the fact that he could barely sense much of anything was not something that he wanted to dwell upon. Luke exhaled heavily and tendered a silent plea to the Force, hoping that Palpatine was currently well-occupied with running the Republic. If so, then maybe his presence would continue to go unnoticed. Luke swallowed hard and grimaced; he was truly flirting with disaster.

Dispelling his unsettling thoughts, he glanced down to the low table directly in front of the chair on which he sat. There were several bound periodicals neatly arranged there, all of which appeared to be Nabooian travel guides. There was also a woven basket containing half a dozen pieces of large yellow fruit. His stomach growled uncontrollably as he remembered that stale bowl of dried cereal he had choked down before leaving Tycen's apartment hours ago. He reached forward and grabbed one of the magazines and a piece of fruit and settled back for an apparently long wait. At least he could use this time to learn more about Naboo.

***

Luke set down the bound flimsy as he finished reading the article on the relatively recent election and inauguration of Queen Apailana. He drew a deep breath and glanced over to the large bank of windows set into the exterior wall of the spacious office. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he had been sitting here, but judging by the angle of the Coruscanti sun that was now low on the horizon, he was sure that it had been hours. He had thoroughly scanned every piece of reading material in the reception area and consumed two more pieces of fruit—all under the wary eye of the young woman who sat behind the large desk across the room. In all that time, not once was there even the slightest indication that he would be able to directly contact the secluded Senator.

Luke stood to stretch back muscles which had stiffened due to his immobility. He noted that the receptionist had also shifted uncomfortably at his movements. He wasn't sure if she was reaching for the button to call for security or to grab a concealed blaster to handle the situation herself. For some reason, he thought it might be the latter. Disregarding her actions, he turned to face the wall behind the chair which he had occupied—and froze. He furrowed his brow and blinked several times as all of his attention instantly focused on the large painting that covered much of the wall above where he had been sitting. He wasn't sure how he had not noticed it before.

Stepping closer to the wall, he examined the painting in detail. His mind dizzily whirled as he realized that he had observed the location once before...very recently, in fact.

"_We all have a beginning, my love," _Mara's words came back with a warm rush to his mind. _"This is yours… Remember it."_

The two stair-stepped towers that dominated the subject of the painting were the same—their blue roofs shimmered reflectively onto the calm lake in the foreground as they had when he had last seen them. The many arched windows and cream-colored exterior walls were accented with vines and greenery in the exact manner he remembered. And as expected, the large stone veranda with an ornately carved railing was there—sitting off to the side of the villa. Even the surrounding well-manicured gardens were exactly how they had been in his vision.

"Excuse me," Luke called over his shoulder. He cleared his throat to try and suppress the jolt of emotion that had suddenly surged through him. "Can you tell me where this place is?"

"That is Varykino," the receptionist tentatively replied. "It is located in the Lake Country on Naboo."

"Does the property belong to the Senator Amidala?" The blond man's eyes were still riveted to the painting.

After a long hesitation, the young woman replied. "No, to her family."

_Family..._ A grin began to grow across Luke's features which he was unable to hold back. Finally—after all this time... He shook his head in amazement as ethereal pieces to a long perplexing puzzle began to slowly come together in his mind.

Luke turned sharply to face the receptionist and was instantly overwhelmed with the same sudden feeling of foreboding he had felt outside of the Temple. The sensation was far more intense this time; it almost made him stagger. Tendrils of fear crept over him as a growing sense of entrapment solidified in his mind. He was about to make for the door when the comm unit on the receptionist's desk beeped loudly.

"Yes, Senator?" the young woman hastily answered.

"Moteé," the refined, melodic voice of a young woman broke into the front office. "An urgent matter...has just arisen...that will...require my...complete attention..."

The sounds of rustling fabric and shuffled flimsies—followed by an urgently whispered reprimand of _"Stop that!"_—was clearly transmitted through the comm.

"Please clear my calendar for the rest of the day..." the Senator managed to complete her request.

"Yes, of course, my lady." Moteé smiled bashfully as she diverted her eyes and switched off the comm. She knew exactly what—or actually who—would be occupying the remainder of the Senator's day.

The young handmaiden looked up to inform the mysterious man that there was no point to his continued waiting. She frowned as she found the office anteroom was now empty. Both the disheveled-looking transient and the few last pieces of shuura fruit had vanished.

***

Luke had never thought it physically possible, but he was now quite certain that he had developed blisters on top of blisters. He winced as the toe of one of his ill-fitting boots caught on an upraised crack in the duracrete, causing him to stumble forward. Reaching a hand out to the ferrocrete wall of the access tunnel, he regained his balance before continuing on his way.

With each agonizing step, he berated his reckless decision to take Tycen's offer of transport earlier in the day. The air-taxi had made the several kilometer trip to the Senatorial complex pass in just minutes. Even when he had left the portly cabby and entered the rotunda, he had given no thought whatsoever as to how he would make his way back across the city. That quandary had not entered his mind until he was making his hasty exit. Even then, he was only concerned with escaping the oppressive feeling that seemed to suddenly weigh down upon him. He had traveled several blocks before realizing that his pockets contained more confiscated fruit than credits. He was left with no other option but to travel back by foot.

Not wanting to garner any unwanted attention, Luke had decided to keep to the lower levels. He had ventured through districts that he had rarely traveled into before but which were amazingly similar to how he remembered them to be in his own time. His anonymous trek had taken him through crumbling neighborhoods predominantly inhabited by criminals, junkies, and deathstick dealers. Luke was sure that his rumpled attire and unkempt appearance had helped him to blend in with the array of seedy individuals who wandered the worn streets. Most of the sentients he had passed wore only stony blank expressions, as if they were too lost in their own hopeless miseries to notice a stranger in their mist. He had been immensely glad of that.

Luke had walked for hours. His only unwelcome encounter had involved a rather persistent four-armed Codru-Ji prostitute. With some quick talking and even quicker evasive maneuvers, he had managed to disentangle himself from her salacious propositions. After that, he had opted to retreat to the subterranean tunnels. They were less populated. In fact, he had only passed a few homeless souls who huddled silent and unmoving along the alcoves of the labyrinth in which he traveled. Despite not having access to view the Coruscanti sky above him, he knew that the hour was late and that this side of the planet had been steeped in night for a very long time.

Through dim illumination from the recessed light panels above him, he could see a shadowed arch along the sidewall ahead that indicated a doorway. This was the sixth one he had found along the underbelly of the building. He doubted there would be any more; he had nearly completed a full circle around his chosen destination. Luke hastened his steps until he reached the recessed durasteel panel and the digital access pad next to it. Closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead on the cold metal that stood between him and the bowels of the Jedi Temple. He took a deep breath and pulled his head back so he could better view the contemptuously inert keypad. With nothing more to lose, he brought up his hand and began punching in the numbers of his own access code. He knew that the device would not recognize it as his, but he was irrationally hoping that it might just happen to be identical to someone else's code that was currently in use. When the back-plate of the keypad began flashing red, and the unyielding door remained solidly in place, it was clear that this last desperate effort had failed.

_"Damn it!" _Luke slammed his mechanical fist into the gray durasteel panel in frustration. Stepping away until his back was pressed against the cold brick of the adjacent wall, he let the weight of his exhausted body bring him down to sit on the damp ground. Crossing his arms on top of his upraised knees, he dropped his head to rest on his forearms and shut his eyes.

He allowed the futility of his recent efforts to swamp his body—let his growing sense of defeat sweep over his soul. He had been back to this time for over two days and had done nothing but chase shadows and wander the streets in vain. His growing anxieties had been his lone companion for the past several hours. He knew that his own frustration was making him behave like anything but the Jedi Grand Master that he was, but right now, he didn't really care. He was out of ideas, out of options...and out of sorts.

His long trek across the assorted districts had given him the opportunity to think about how absolutely isolated and lost he was in this endeavor. He was truly alone for the first time in a very long while. There was no Mara by his side—no other family at all to rely upon for support. There was apparently no access to any other Jedi with whom to consult... He didn't even have Artoo. With the crystal orb out of his possession, there was nothing to help guide him and aid his efforts to in preventing the coming catastrophe. In fact, it seemed that even the Force had abandoned him—or nearly so. The fleeting moments of disjointed and confusing awareness that teased his senses were becoming more of a nuisance than a help. He was sorely starting to harbor regrets for ever attempting this apparently impossible mission.

Drawing his head back to lean against the cold brick wall, he scrubbed his face with calloused hands to bring himself out of his own dark reverie. There was no point in brooding about his predicament. Mara would have kicked his butt if she had found him like this. The edges of his mouth quirked upward for a moment as he remembered her words once more. She had been right to urge him to take note of that lake house. That memory from his vision had led to his only encouraging discovery of the day. And that revelation had been quite a shock, to say the least. Beyond any doubt in his mind, he was sure that the Senator from Naboo was_ intimately _connected with his parents—and more than just due to a mercy mission involving a victimized mother as Leia had believed. He knew he still needed confirmation from her, of course, but he just didn't yet know how he was going to get past her security to speak with her directly. It wasn't like he could just drop by her private apartment and ask.

Luke could not suppress a yawn that rose from within and rounded his mouth. It was late. He realized that both his body and mind needed rest. Maybe he could try to come up with a new plan in the morning. He supposed that he should just go back to Tycen's apartment. The gruff cabby had eagerly reiterated his offer of free lodging earlier this afternoon...although rest may not have been totally on the older man's mind. Luke had a feeling that when he got there, he would find another mechanical part in need of repair sitting on the living room table. He wasn't complaining—at least not about that. He would always be grateful for the man's assistance.

The issue that seemed to be delaying his action was that Luke wasn't quite sure he was ready to venture back to everything else that awaited him there. He could more than abide Tycen's irascible personality. In a lot of ways, the rather colorful curmudgeon reminded him of Han. He could even endure most of the clutter. Of course, that situation had been lessened considerably—he had felt obliged to clean the place up a bit yesterday while recovering his wits. He was pretty sure that there was no way that Tycen could have decimated the place in only a day—at least he didn't think so. No, what he most feared was dealing with was the odd assortment of pittins (or roommates as Tycen called them) that wandered in and out at their leisure though the grime-stained window.

Actually, he might have been able to tolerate most of them if it hadn't been for that vile gray creature. Their last encounter had been rather painful. It was obvious that she hadn't expected him to still be there when she returned in the middle of the night. He wasn't sure who had been more shocked—the wide-eyed furry beast when she bounded over the back of the couch to land on her favorite sleeping spot or him when he awoke with a yelp to sharp claws digging into his bare skin. Luke unconsciously rubbed his hand over the rough weave of his donated poncho; his chest was a still a bit tender.

Digging fingers into the indented grout lines between the ferrocrete bricks next to him, he pulled himself up to stand. He took a step away from the wall and winced once more as the pain from his abused feet shot up though the aching muscles of his legs. There was no point in remaining here any longer. Turning to make his way to the stairwell that would bring him out of the tunnels, he began to shuffle forward.

Luke faltered as a threat of imminent danger registered through his Force-deficient senses. The warning came too late to react, and his body was slammed against the unyielding brick of the sidewall. The shock from the attack was disorienting and caused him to be pinned into submission by the pressure of a strong forearm across his chest. Luke's panic-induced resistance was immediately squelched as the familiar sound of a _snap-hiss _reverberated through the dark tunnel. A blurred streak of ice blue arced in front of his face and came to hover uncomfortably close to the front of his neck. The glow from the lightsaber marginally illuminated the cloaked form of his taller attacker. Although most of his assailant's features remained hidden in the shadows of his dark cowl, Luke could clearly discern a distinctive vertical scar that started above the stranger's right eye and traced its way down his cheek. Luke could also clearly see the dangerous threat and incredible intensity displayed in the younger man's eyes...

Blue eyes...

Very familiar looking blue eyes...

Jolted by his instant recognition of the man now towering above him, Luke swallowed hard. Whispered words raced out of his mouth before his brain could stop them.

_"Oh, kriff!"_


	16. Chapter 16 Caught!

_A/N #1: I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy. _

_A/N #2: This story would not be what it is without the help of my very competent beta reader, "Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu." Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated._

_A/N #3: Wow! Two hundred and ten reviews, fifty-seven favorite story tags, and more than a hundred and twenty story alerts. To say I am overwhelmed is an understatement! Thank you all for your continued support and interest in this tale. I love receiving your feedback, and will continue to try and respond privately to all of your signed reviews. _

_A/n #4: Finally... I am begging for your understanding and patience. My computer died (literally) a little over a week ago. And with its passing, went most of my data—including many of the remaining roughed-in chapters of this story. I have managed to recover a few bits and pieces of what I had written and stored in other locations, but it will be a big job to recreate what was lost. Don't worry, though. I will finish this story—it will just take longer than anticipated. I doubt that I will be able to maintain the weekly posting schedule that I had planned... Sorry!_

_Now that my groveling is out of the way... On with the story!_

* * *

**Chapter 16 – Caught!**

"_Oh, kriff!" _Luke's whispered curse echoed through the dark passageway.

Held fast against the wall, the Jedi Master felt his gut plummet to the floor as he looked with wide eyes upon the face of the last person he had wanted to encounter. The amazingly familiar blue eyes of Anakin Skywalker glared down at him and narrowed fiercely. Luke could feel the tension in the access tunnel become almost suffocating before his assailant finally broke the silence.

"The CIS is woefully desperate if they must resort to agents who are as inept as you." Anakin's low voice was dripping in contempt.

"I'm not a spy," Luke croaked. The forearm pressed against his chest was making it difficult for him to find his voice.

"That is blatantly obvious." The edges of the young man's shadowed lips twitched upward, though the resulting grin contained no humor. "Who is your target, assassin?"

"What?" Luke willed himself to stay calm. Feeling the vibration from the ice-blue energy beam pulsating next to his throat wasn't helping him much in his attempt.

"Your target," Anakin growled. "I saw you here earlier—surveilling the Temple. I also watched you leave the Senatorial complex."

Luke was shoved harder against the unyielding brick wall, the pressure across his chest increasing.

"Now you are back," Anakin continued. "Why?"

"I—um—"

"You have precious few seconds remaining to explain, _little_ _man,"_ the cloaked figure threatened. "Use them wisely—while you still can."

Maybe it was the day's frustrations finally overwhelming him, maybe it was the feral panic from his entrapment that was clouding his senses and causing his heart to race—or maybe it was just because of that perceived derogatory insult regarding his height—but whatever it was, Luke felt anger erupt within him. He was loath to control the unwanted emotion. He mentally grasped at what few strands of the Force he could and tried to push his assailant away.

His rash action produced little relief. Although the lightsaber held near his neck wavered slightly, the only response registered by the taller man was for him to turn his head aside with a pained expression. When the Jedi recovered and turned back, Luke immediately regretted his outburst. The fury in the man's eyes was near palpable.

"Your feeble attempt to attack me is useless," the aggravated Jedi declared. He leaned his full weight into the older man's chest. "Has your desire to avenge your Sith Master's death caused you to forego all reason?"

"What? No!" Luke sputtered. "I—uh…" His mind was whirling. _Shavit! Did his father believe him to be a dark Jedi underling? _Luke wondered if that was better or worse than being a Separatist agent. He didn't think he had the time to try to figure that quandary out. He needed to come up with something to say—and quickly.

"I grow tired of asking this," Anakin spat. "Tell me your intentions, or my blade will be the last sensation you feel."

"I-I'm here to meet a Jedi," Luke yelped. The words spilled out before Luke could fully grasp the consequences of their meaning. But as he spoke, the words had felt right. He could only trust that they were.

"Congratulations," the cloaked man contemptuously hissed. "It appears that you have succeeded."

***

Anakin closely scrutinized the derelict vagrant that he held under his blade in the silence that followed their last exchange. It was obvious that this drifter was not who he appeared to be, but Anakin could not decipher the swirling mix of erratic messages he was receiving through the Force. The man's presence was oddly vexing. Just touching him was like holding onto an ungrounded electrical conduit. It was not painful, just profoundly—irritating.

But beyond that, what disturbed Anakin most deeply was the insistent feeling that he knew this man—or at least, that he should. Despite the poor lighting of the corridor, Anakin strained his eyes to assimilate all of the man's features. The ragged beard covering half of the stranger's face was making the task difficult. But still—the blond hair, the shape of his nose, the eyes…

The blue eyes...

They were so very much like…

***

Luke could feel a lessening of the pressure on his chest. He looked up to the hooded face of his father and saw something new shadowing his features. Could it be—confusion, puzzlement, recognition? Whatever was there, it dissipated in an instant—replaced once again with pure animosity.

"Who are you?" the Jedi snarled.

Luke closed his eyes and leaned back against the cold brick wall. He forced himself to swallow, though his mouth had long since gone dry. "_Trust what's in your heart, Luke."_ He had heard that message many times in his visions. Maybe this was the right opportunity to do exactly that. Seeing no possibility of escape, Luke decided to go on the offensive. It was time for the truth—or at least part of it.

"My name is Luke," he said softly. "Luke Skywalker. I am…your son."

In the silent standoff that followed, Luke desperately tried to erect whatever mental shields he could muster to suppress the unpleasant memories of a similar revelation made long ago. Although that acknowledgement of their familial bond had been declared in reverse, he could still well remember the inconceivable horror and shock that had pierced through to his very core as he clung to a gantry high above the planet of Bespin…He grimaced. That conversation hadn't gone very well, either.

Luke could feel the younger man's astonishment roll off him in waves. Although his father continued to loom in front of him, he seemed to become slightly mollified—at least for the moment. It gave Luke a small sense of encouragement. Feeling the imminent danger begin to lessen, Luke allowed himself to release a deep sigh and relax, slightly. That was, until he was jolted back against the wall once more.

"That's…impossible," Anakin railed. Any hint of perceived composure had evaporated as quickly as morning dew in the desert. "Are you crazy or just suicidal?"

"Don't let your eyes deceive you." Luke again willed himself for calm. "Search your feelings, father." He struggled to conquer his own anxiety, though he wasn't having much success. Too much rested on what was happening right now.

Luke then found himself wincing as a short burst of pain laced through his temples. Had his father just tried to truth-read him? Or was it a more sinister attempt to rip away at the memories of an enemy? That was a Sith technique. Had Anakin already secretly fallen to the Dark Side? Was it too late? Had his efforts to come back to this time all been for naught?

Luke's eyes snapped open to lock onto the confused face of the man before him. He could clearly see the sheer terror and confusion playing across the younger man's features, but he could sense no darkness accompanying those emotions. It was startling to realize just how frightened the man before him truly was. It gave him hope that the mental jolt he had just experienced was more than likely an unfocused reflex stemming from his father's growing panic.

***

"But—?" Anakin blinked in disbelief; his lightsaber slowly retracted from the older man's neck. He took a step back as he watched the stranger's face closely. His head was spinning as he tried to reconcile the mysterious man's words with what his own feelings were telling him. No, it couldn't be, could it? But even though the vagrant's claims were inconceivable, he could sense no apparent deceit behind his words. Why did this derelict feel so familiar? And his eyes...it was like looking at his own reflection.

Anakin's confusion was fogging his senses. The near-total exhaustion he was fighting seemed to be exacerbating the situation. His life of late had been spiraling away from his control. The heated turmoil of the last few weeks in the Outer Rim, the frantic return to Coruscant, the stress-induced insomnia...and—when he had managed to sleep—the nightmares... His mind was nothing more than a blur of tangled thoughts and frenzied worries. All the emotional stresses that had been assaulting him of late had, at times, caused him to question his sanity—but until now, he had not believed himself open to delusions...

The young Jedi's eyes narrowed. His own anxieties were making it difficult to think. He used the one solution that seemed to work best for him when he found himself in like situations—a remedy that had been suggested by his friend, the Chancellor. He concentrated on stirring his anger to cut through the fear-induced confusion muddling his mind. As his thoughts cleared, he mentally probed the man before him once more. He could now detect deeply embedded mental shields. There was definitely something that this man was hiding.

New tumultuous thoughts crashed into Anakin's mind. In a blur of movement, the stranger's body was again crushed into the wall. The malice that now registered in Anakin's eyes was near rabid in intensity.

"A cleverly contrived deception, you Separatist scum," Anakin growled, "but not clever enough."

"You know... You know my words are true." The unexpected force of Anakin's new assault had temporarily knocked the air from his lungs. "I am a Jedi, like my father." Luke wheezed.

"Prove it!" the younger Jedi challenged. "Name your mother!"

***

Luke physically paled. His mouth went slack, and all coherent thought fled his brain. Speechless, he stared into the feral face of his father.

"I have caught you in your own web of lies," Anakin jeered mirthlessly. "How can you be who you claim if you cannot identify my wife?"

_Wife!_ Luke's legs seemed to turn boneless at the revelation. If his father had not been exerting pressure on his chest, he was sure that he would have simply slid down the wall. _My parents were married?_Luke looked away and grinned absentmindedly at the admission. The fact that he and Leia were legitimate children from a married couple had never been contemplated. He felt almost giddy at the disclosure. His mirth left him instantly as he once again focused at the younger man now glowering at him in the darkness. _Stang… _How could he reply when he did not know the answer—at least, not for sure?

***

Anakin cursed himself as soon his unintentional admission left his lips. As the red haze of his anger dissipated, he realized that for the second time in a span of just a few days he had failed—miserably. He had not been able to control the lust for vengeance that had driven him to essentially murder Count Dooku, and now, because of an inadvertent slip of the tongue, he had put his wife and unborn child in danger. He could not allow that to be the case. He would be forced to dispatch another defenseless man in order to ensure his secret.

"You have failed, assassin," the young Jedi threatened quietly. His face had hardened into an unreadable mask. "Know your defeat as you draw your last breath."

***

"No!" The flair of fatal warning raced through Luke so powerfully that he gasped. The ramifications of his father's inconceivable intentions crashed into his mind. Luke threw his full weight against his assailant. He knew that he was in a fight for his life. The two men struggled for several frantic minutes. It was far from a fair fight, and Luke knew it. His opponent had age, height, and a complete grasp of the Force to his advantage. With nothing more than minimal contact with the Force, Luke knew his efforts were futile. It was only sheer desperation that drove him on. In the end, not even that was enough. Physically spent, Luke relented and closed his eyes. He felt the slow approach of the plasma blade, knowing that it would singe the exposed skin of his neck soon enough.

But he could not die now—not like this… He had to stop this madness… He had to say something...

"Padmé!" Luke blurted—and prayed to the Force that his intuition was correct. If not, he knew he wouldn't be around to make another guess.

"What?" Anakin croaked. The echo of his question continued to reverberate through the empty tunnel as he disengaged his weapon. Releasing his grip on the older man, he watched him submissively slide down the wall to a heap.

"Padmé Amidala… is my mother," Luke gasped. He clenched his eyes tighter and leaned his head back against the brick in numb exhaustion. He supposed that he must be right; he was still breathing.

"Oh, _Force!_" Anakin's self-directed rebuke came out as no more than a strangled cry. "Oh, _Force!_" he continued to repeat. The now trembling mechanical fingers of his gloved hand unclenched, and the hilt of his lightsaber clattered loudly to the ground. He backed away in recognition of the sheer horror of the act he had been about to commit. Running his left hand through his tousled hair—and knocking back the cowl of his cloak as he did so—he began to pace in front of the older man in nervous agitation.

"How—how can this possibly be?" the distraught Jedi demanded.

"I was sent…" Luke cleared his dry throat, "…from the future."

Anakin stopped abruptly and turned his head to look at the older man.

"Time travel is against Galactic Law," he stated flatly.

"Yes, I know," Luke panted. "But I believed it was worth the risk." Recovering slowly, he opened his eyes to stare piercingly at the pale young face of his father. "Will you turn me in?"

After a long moment, Anakin scoffed and began pacing again. "Far be it for me to be an ardent stickler for the rules. Besides, that's Obi-Wan's job. Your illicit actions just go to further prove your claim of heritage." He shrugged.

"It's not a claim," Luke averred. "It is the truth, and you know it."

Anakin winced as he glanced down at the man slumped against the wall and simply shook his head. "You're so…" The younger man's blue eyes clearly showed his dismay. His face contorted with confusion. "You're…_you're_ _OLD_!"

"It happens," Luke acknowledged. Knowing the danger had passed, he allowed a grin in response to his father's obvious distress to tug at his lips.

"You said you were sent here. By who?" Anakin questioned.

They were interrupted before Luke could answer the question by the sound of shuffling feet echoing in the tunnel. The unexpected noise brought the young Jedi's steps abruptly to a halt. Anakin quickly moved to press his back against the wall in an attempt to avoid detection. Both men turned to peer through the gloom as a derelict figure came into view. An obviously inebriated Gran stumbled across the arched opening denoting the intersection of two converging tunnels. He was apparently in search of a safe a place to sleep off his drunkenness.

"I will explain," Luke murmured softly after the sound of the Gran's footsteps had faded into the darkness. "But it is rather complicated." He kept a wary eye on the direction in which the alien had passed.

"Not here." Anakin shifted uneasily. "I know a safe place where we can talk. Come with me."

Luke looked up to see Anakin's black gloved hand hovering above him. A moment of déjà vu washed over him. The last time that his father had made such an offer, Luke had chosen to pull away—unwilling to follow the man into darkness. Something within him told Luke that there was a great deal of darkness waiting very near with a desire to claim both of them. But unlike the last time, Luke was now willing to take his father's offer. This time, he would be ready for the fight. He reached forward and grabbed the black gauntlet.

Once the older man was pulled to his feet, Anakin quickly released his hand and turned to move down the tunnel.

"Uh," Luke interrupted. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

The young Jedi swiveled back to glare at the bearded man beside him, his brow furrowing in puzzlement.

"Your lightsaber?" Luke nodded his head to the side. He could not help but be amused at the scowl that crossed his father's face as his eyes darted to the ground where the metal hilt still lay.

Not saying a word, Anakin reached out, and the silver shaft flew to his hand. He quickly clipped it back onto his belt. Raising the cowl of his cloak, the younger Jedi turned away and began to stalk through the corridor again.

"We had best hurry," Anakin mumbled.

Taking a step forward, Luke bit his lip to help stifle the pain that shot up from his abused feet. Without preamble, the tall cloaked figure whirled around and placed a gloved hand on the older man's chest. Luke stiffened.

"What is wrong?" Anakin asked.

Luke simply cocked his head, questioning the man's concern.

"You're in pain," Anakin elaborated. "I can feel it."

Luke looked away. "Blisters," he shrugged. "The boots are too large."

"As is the rest of your attire," Anakin observed. "You should have planned—"

"I didn't have a lot of options when I arrived," Luke interrupted. He was feeling oddly annoyed by his father's scrutiny.

"And your lightsaber?" Anakin questioned. "You did claim that you are a Jedi."

"I had to travel light."

Anakin straightened. He took another moment to run his eyes down the older man's form once more. Saying nothing further, he turned and stalked away.

Luke followed his young father silently as they left the underground. Anakin quickly led them through a tangle of back-streets and alleyways. Each twist and turn took the pair farther away from the looming ziggurat structure that had been Luke's intended destination. He could not help but be disappointed. In a small way, he had hoped that his father would be the key to finally gaining access into the Temple. If that had been the case, there may have still been a way to pursue his goal of contacting Ben and delivering his warning. Of course, considering Anakin's offhanded remark about Master Kenobi's apparent propensity to adhere strictly for the rules, maybe his presumed course of action, although logical, would not have been the wisest choice.

Finally entering a dead-end alley, the taller man held up a hand as they came to the back of a nondescript building. The broken windows and abundant display of graffiti sprayed over ferrocrete bricks went a long way in confirming its abandoned state. Turning to his shorter companion, Anakin waved a gloved finger in front of Luke's face.

"Wait right here," Anakin ordered.

With a high-pitched screech from protesting hinges, the young Jedi wrenched away a rusted plate-metal panel and disappeared into the shadows of the building. After several bangs and crashes—along with the sound of his distinctive voice echoing a hushed commentary of curses—Anakin reemerged, guiding an elongated object with him.

Luke frowned. To be charitable, one could say that the machine his father was dragging out to the alley was a stripped-down, nightmarish version of a swoop bike. In actuality, it appeared to be no more than a set of handlebars that had been fashioned to the front of an overly-large repulsor engine. There was a cone of thin metal spiking out in front of the questionable contraption—no doubt designed to cut down on resistance. There were also several stabilizer flaps tacked along the machine's sides. The most dubious feature, however, had to be the well-worn block of padding strapped to the top of the repulsor hull—it apparently was intended to serve as a seat. Luke was fairly certain that the thin foam would barely provide even minimal isolation from the heat of the engine.

Bringing the make-shift swoop to rest under the ambient glow of an overhead streetlight, Anakin quickly moved to the side of the craft, bent down, and began checking the jumbled mass of wires and tubing to ensure that their connections were secure.

"Climb on," Anakin barked crisply. "This will save your feet and bring us to our destination quickly."

"You can't expect me to get on that thing?" Luke was aghast.

"Why not?" The young Jedi rose and stiffened.

"It's a piece of junk," Luke complained. "Will it even start?"

"It's fine," Anakin countered through clenched teeth. "I built her myself. I may not have had the opportunity to use her of late, but she's still got it where it counts."

"It doesn't even look like that thing will hold together to reach the end of the alley."

"What happened to your plea of not allowing your eyes to deceive you?" Anakin mocked.

Luke bit back his retort. He could sense that his father had taken a great deal of offense at his derisive statements in regard to his mechanical handiwork, and there was a small part of him that worried about what type of retribution his rash words would evoke. Sighing heavily, Luke knew that there was nothing he could say to change the young man's mind.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Let's get this over with."

Luke clearly caught the feral grin that crossed the young Jedi's face before he turned away and hopped onto the swoop. He shook his head, reminding himself once more that this was Anakin Skywalker, not Darth Vader. His father wouldn't possibly put him knowingly at risk, would he?

With a blur of movement, Anakin quickly ran through the ignition sequence. The powerful machine rumbled to life and slowly lifted from the duracrete. Shifting forward, Anakin glanced back over at the older man and cocked an eyebrow.

Stilling his nerve, Luke carefully took his place behind his father. The vibration from the raw engine made his teeth rattle.

"Does this thing even have brakes?" Luke had to yell his inquiry to be heard over the swoop's loud drone.

A negative shake of the blond head in front of gave him the answer he was most dreading.

"Who needs them when you have the Force?" Anakin shouted his reply, his crazed grin breaking into an extremely smug smile.

Luke clenched his jaw tightly and grabbed handfuls of his father's cloak and tunic. He had a bad feeling about this.


	17. Chapter 17 First Impressions

_A/N #1: I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy. _

_A/N #2: This story would not be what it is without the help of my very competent beta reader, "Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu." Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated._

* * *

**Chapter 17 ****–**** First Impressions**

The trip across Coruscant was arduously long and incredibly nerve-racking. Unless his father had intended to bring them halfway across the planet, Luke was pretty sure that the man had decided to extend their little _joy ride _just to prove the capabilities of his mechanical handiwork. Luke no longer concerned himself with the cobbled-together swoop bike's functionality. His worries regarding its driver's sanity, however, were another issue.

Somewhere during their travels, they had descended back into the underground. Luke was not sure exactly when that had occurred. He had spent most of the trip with his eyes tightly clamped and his head firmly planted on his father's back.

Although an experienced pilot himself, Luke had not felt such a high level of adrenaline in decades. He might have enjoyed the rush under different circumstances—like when he was a kid back on Tatooine racing in Beggar's Canyon, or when he was a Rebel pilot engaging Imperials in a more conventional craft—but he couldn't enjoy it as he was now, hanging off the back of a mechanized death-trap while clinging to a madman.

Hearing bouts of laughter coming from his father whenever an extended flat stretch allowed an increase in acceleration—or when the inertia of a turn brought them up onto a tunnel sidewall—reminded Luke of the sheer joy and feeling of invincibility only prevalent in one's youth. Those were feelings he could no longer share. Instead, during the few cognitive moments he had when his brain was able to function, he could only dwell on the dangerous ramifications of his father's reckless actions. Concerns regarding unpredictable mechanical breakdowns, unforeseen traffic hazards, and vulnerable pedestrians flooded his mind...

_Stang!_ His father was right, Luke soberly realized. He _was_ old!

Feeling the high-powered swoop mercifully slow to a stop, Luke opened his eyes and willed his cramped fingers to unclench their vice grip hold on his father's clothing.

"We're here!" Anakin shouted. He glanced back at the ashen-faced Luke. "Get off and wait here. I'll be back as soon as I secure the bike."

Luke could clearly sense the immense satisfaction his father felt upon regarding his frayed emotional state. The toothy grin the young man was bearing simply served to make Luke even more unsettled.

Luke clamped his jaw shut tightly and complied with Anakin's wishes. For a flash of a moment, he contemplated dropping to his knees and kissing the ground in relief. He resisted the temptation, however, as he was unwilling to give his father the satisfaction of knowing exactly how much distress their harrowing trip had caused him. Instead, he simply stood there in silence, locked his knees, and concentrated on willing his legs—and the rest of him—to stop shaking. The swoop's engine revved back to life, and the machine, along with its deranged pilot, disappeared into the blackness.

Standing alone in the dimly-lit access tunnel, Luke focused his thoughts on his next move. Since he had seen Obi-Wan on the HoloNet yesterday, Luke had centered his entire focus on meeting with him. The possibility of meeting his father had been virtually dismissed, so he had not even contemplated a possible contingency plan for it. But here they were. Luke ran his fingers through his wind-tousled hair and exhaled heavily. What had he gotten himself into?

He realized that if he was smart, he would just disappear into the darkness, find his way out of the tunnels, and trek back to Tycen's apartment. Logic beckoned for him to reexamine today's failures, reevaluate his options, and return to the Temple tomorrow—a new start for a new day. But despite the fact that Luke's common sense was screaming out to him that just being here with his father was reckless, he knew he couldn't leave. This was too opportune a moment. If the fate of the Galaxy centered on Anakin Skywalker, then he had best stay around him as well.

Of course, he knew that this impending conversation would not be an easy one. Anakin was sure to have questions for him—important and difficult questions. Luke knew that he couldn't lie to his father; his defenses were still too weak to completely resist Anakin's probes. But Luke also knew that he could not tell him the entire truth either—at least not yet. To tell any man that he would soon play a pivotal role in destroying everything around him—the Republic, the Jedi...even his own family—well, it would be overwhelming, to say the least.

For the moment, Luke may not have the Force to guide him, but he still had his near lifetime of experience with dealing with dangerous adversaries. Although he was hesitant to categorize his father as an adversary, he definitely considered him dangerous. The actions of their first meeting had made that fact painfully apparent. Luke unconsciously brought a hand up to rub the soreness that lingered along the small of his back.

He would need to appear strong and confident. He needed to learn all he could from his father's actions and words and present no weakness. It was a good plan, and as long as Anakin wasn't planning any further outrageous actions, it should work. At least, he hoped it would.

Feeling a brightening vibration through the Force, Luke pulled himself from his reverie to see the young man reemerge from the shadows. The dark-clothed Jedi glanced at him as he made his way to the keypad of a locked doorway. He riffled in a pouch of his utility belt until he pulled out a slender silver rod with two wires extending from one end. Then he pushed a small button on the side of the device, and a small red light that was inset next to the wires began to blink. He let the cylinder drop as he held the two wires against the keypad.

"What is that?" Luke asked.

"Something I put together several years back," Anakin shrugged nonchalantly. "It searches and replays the last successfully used access code—while preventing the action from being logged in the surveillance system."

"Impressive," Luke grudgingly acknowledged, raising an eyebrow.

"Necessary," Anakin cryptically replied.

As he watched the young man work the device, Luke noticed for the first time that his father wore a thick black gauntlet on his right arm. His left hand, however, was bare. That was rather odd. He doubted that it was a fashion statement. Luke unconsciously clenched the mechanical fingers of his own right hand as he suddenly realized the most likely reason for it.

The small light on the device finally switched from flashing red to solid green. At the same time, Luke could hear a succession of clicks as the locking mechanism released and the door panel swished open. Anakin quickly detached the wires. He wound them back around the small metal cylinder as he stuffed the device back into his belt. He turned around to glance at the older man.

"Follow me, but be cautious." He raised a finger in warning. "Security in this building is extremely tight."

"But apparently not tight enough," Luke replied dryly.

Anakin stared down at him for a moment and furrowed his brows. Then, with a disgruntled frown, he turned to make his way into the dark subterranean basement of the building. Following behind, Luke shadowed his movements.

Anakin snaked his way against the walls, pausing intermittently along the way. Luke was sure that his actions were indications of his attempt to avoid the building's security systems. With his dampened Force-sensitivity, Luke had to rely fully on Anakin's abilities. Luke got the impression that the Jedi ahead of him was very familiar with the building's layout—in addition to being quite adept at avoiding detection.

Anakin finally ushered them into a service turbolift and punched the button for the uppermost floor. Without being obvious, Luke glanced over and noted that they would be traveling well over two hundred stories. When they reached the designated level, Luke found himself in a large mechanical room full of ventilation systems and water storage tanks. Puzzled, he simply followed his father across the room to another bank of turbolifts.

By the time the doors opened on the fifth turbolift they had taken, Luke's patience was definitely waning. They had traveled well over a thousand levels. Despite traveling only through staff maintenance access ways, the building security had definitely heightened. The last two trips had required Anakin to employ his code-breaking device to just gain access into the turbolifts. He impatiently wondered just how tall this infernal building actually was and if they would ever reach their final destination. Stepping out into another nondescript mechanical room, Luke started toward the opposing wall where he assumed the next set of lifts would be located. He was slightly startled when a gloved hand came down on his shoulder. He spun to see Anakin shake his head in dissent.

"No, not that way." His father's voice noticeably hushed.

Luke compliantly turned and followed the young Jedi as he veered toward a lone access door on the adjacent wall. Luke could barely contain his shock at the brisk night air that assaulted him as he was ushered out of the door. He found himself on a narrow metal catwalk that clung tenuously to the edge of the building. Gathering his wits, Luke took a moment and looked around.

"You have got to be joking!" the perplexed Jedi Master murmured under his breath. His disgruntlement deepened when his eyes caught sight of the low dome of the Senate building practically sitting next to them. Knowing what a relatively quick trip the excursion from the Temple to here should have been, as he had already been brought here once by Tycen earlier in the day, his annoyance at father's immature and reckless nature spiked within him. His inner musings were cut short, however, when he felt his father move close next to him.

"Follow me," the young man instructed. He then climbed over the catwalk railing and scaled the edifice of the building until he reached a narrow ledge. He took a moment to gain his balance against the turbulent air currents rising up from the heavy speeder traffic around them. Once he had done so, he began to edge forward around the curves of the building.

Fueled by the aches of his body and the exhaustion of the day—and irritated beyond measure by the rashness of his father's actions—Luke foolishly allowed his emotions to cloud his better judgment. His growing annoyance was preventing him from dwelling on the dangers and stupidity of their current situation. As Anakin edged along the ledge that skirted the outside of the tower, Luke begrudgingly followed. If anyone had taken the time to notice, Luke was sure that they would be amused by the odd pair cautiously negotiating their way along the ledge of the building. The fluid, surefooted strides of his father were a direct contrast to his own fumbling steps.

"You come this way often?" Luke's words were barely audible over the whipping wind.

"Just when the need arises," Anakin answered as he glanced back at the older man and grinned.

Luke seriously wanted to question the young man as to how this place, wherever they were, could possibly be safer than the Jedi Temple. But his need to concentrate on his own movements caused him to hold his tongue.

As he proceeded forward, Luke began to reflect that there must be no end to this fit of insanity. Luckily, that was not the case. After turning another rounded corner, Luke's guide stopped.

"We're here," Anakin stated flatly.

Without a further word, the darkly clad man bent his knees and crouched down low. As graceful as a Nexu stalking its pray, he leapt up to a balcony above them.

Luke could not help but marvel as he watched his father's athletic prowess. He solemnly looked up to assess the distance to his apparent destination. This wasn't going to be easy. He swallowed hard, realizing that his father's actions would be nearly impossible to replicate without a firm grip on his abilities. Although he was feeling the Force around him more readily, his contact with it was still spotty and inconsistent. His heightened emotions extinguished themselves instantly as the reality of his current predicament crashed into him. Knowing better, but unable to stop himself, he then glanced down. Any assurance his returning abilities might have managed to muster immediately fled when he realized that he couldn't even see the ground.

"Don't try...just do," he muttered softly, trying to boost his confidence with Master Yoda's one-time reprimand. Closing his eyes, he reached out with his ragged senses to latch on to what tendrils of the Force he could find. Taking a deep breath, he bent his knees and—jumped.

And...

...missed!

His fingers desperately tried to find purchase against the smooth metal flashing along the ledge of the balcony. As his left hand slipped away, he could feel his prosthetic right arm begin to quiver. His body weight far exceeded the maximum capacity his mechanical fingers were designed to bear. Unable to withstand the pressure any longer, his hand slid off the ledge. Just as his body began to fall away, he felt a steel clamp around his wrist. He looked up to find the unyielding blue eyes of his father glowering down at him. Without a word, Anakin scowled and then swung his arm, catapulting Luke upward in an arc.

Luke hooked his leg around the nearest support of the balcony railing as his father grabbed onto the back of his poncho and hauled him up to solid footing. Trying not to think about his narrowly escaped disaster, Luke stood up and brushed down his rumpled clothing. He kept his eyes averted from the taller Jedi standing next to him, though he could clearly sense the man's suspicious glare.

"I thought you said you were a Jedi," Anakin said with a frown.

"I haven't done a lot of breaking and entering lately," Luke shot back. "I'm out of practice." Obviously, a near-death experience was enough to loosen his tongue and bring a sharp retort from his mouth. He would have preferred to have offered something more caustic, but it was Leia who had been blessed with a scathing verbal wit, not him. At the moment, he longed for her to be here beside him. His sister's sharp-tongued responses were truly legendary.

Anakin frowned as Luke composed his face into an unreadable mask, but he said nothing further. He turned and entered the apartment. Luke followed suit and walked through the large open archway that led to the spacious main room of a penthouse suite. Although there was no internal light source to guide them, the large arcing transparisteel panels that formed the exterior wall and domed ceiling of the room allowed enough diffused light to seep in so as to aid their vision.

Without warning, the young Jedi spun around and grabbed Luke by the front of his clothing. Startled, Luke grimaced and looked up to the piercing eyes of his father. He was dismayed to see that the dangerous glint had once again returned to them.

"I don't like having you here," the taller man cautioned, "but it is the only place that I can bring you where we will not be bothered. If you are lying and are not who you claim to be, know that you will not be leaving this place alive."

"Your threats are useless." Luke pulled away and glared at the young Jedi. "I have only spoken the truth, and you know it." He roughly brushed down his rumpled clothing once more.

Anakin's eyes hardened further. "Then let me warn you," he growled menacingly, "keep your voice down. Do not disturb my wife. Her tolerance for surprises is not as high as mine."

Still rattled by the revelation of his legitimacy—and clearly understanding now where they were—Luke clenched his jaw tightly and simply nodded. He could sense the heightened uneasiness stirring within his father. He admonished himself for not keeping his own feelings under better control. But it certainly didn't help him keep a grip on his emotions when Anakin took a step closer and towered over him.

"Why do you react like that when I mention your mother?"

Luke looked up into the hard blue eyes above him. He realized that he would need to choose his words well.

"Your marriage was secret." Luke cautiously voiced. "It was never openly discussed."

"But—if you are my son," Anakin was even more suspicious, "then surely you would have..."

"I am also a Jedi, father," Luke interrupted. "I know the Code—the one you pledged to uphold." He kept a steady gaze on the younger man, hoping that Anakin had not picked up on the carefully crafted modifiers he had used to keep his words truthful. Noting the way his father dropped his head and turned away, he assumed that Anakin had been too consumed by his own guilt to probe too deeply.

"We need to talk," Anakin finally spoke. He waved an arm toward the middle of the room. Luke followed the direction indicated by his father's motion with his eyes to note a circular table that was surrounded by two curved couches in a large gathering area. He stepped forward at the implied invitation. He descended the few steps into the main room and sat on the closest couch. Anakin moved across the room and sat facing him.

"Father, I…" Luke started, but he quieted as he observed the pained look that came over the younger man.

"Just…Anakin," the Jedi corrected. "It is...disturbing to hear you call me that."

It was quite apparent to Luke that the younger man was feeling extremely awkward with this conversation. Luke inwardly smiled. This was exactly what he had hoped for. He would use it to his advantage. Outwardly, Luke nodded his agreement to his father's wishes.

"Were you raised in the Temple?" Anakin probed.

"No," Luke answered hesitantly. "I grew up far away from Coruscant. But I live at the Temple now—in my time."

"Yet you say you have traveled back here," Anakin continued warily. "How is that even possible?"

"All things are possible with the Force," Luke stated confidently. The well-worn platitude would be a safe explanation.

"You're telling me that the Force sent you?" Anakin looked skeptically at the older man.

"In a way," Luke acknowledged. "The Force was definitely urging me to come."

"The Force can accomplish a great many things," Anakin scowled, "but I doubt that it would just send you back in time."

"Well, actually, there is a bit more to the story," Luke began slowly. "I was contacted by a little known sect called the Temporal Ward. They hide their existence on a small world located in the Outer Rim. After I accepted their offer, they aided my journey."

"But why make the journey at all?" Anakin questioned. "Why would you choose to interfere with the past and commit such a serious crime?"

"The Guardians are observers," Luke said, cautiously eluding direct answers to the younger man's questions. He paused to take a deep breath and gather his thoughts. He would once again need to pick his words carefully, as his father would undoubtedly be truth-reading him. "It is against the Temporal Ward's beliefs to personally interfere in past or future events."

"So what are you here to observe?" Anakin leaned forward intently.

Luke's lips flinched ever so slightly as he realized that his father had accepted the intended diversion. "A series of important events will transpire very soon. They will affect the Galaxy for many years to come."

"And what 'events' are these?"

"I can't tell you," Luke said softly.

Anakin's eyes hardened. "Can't, or won't?" he asked caustically

"A bit of both," Luke shrugged. "Let's just say that the Force is urging me not to."

"Convenient," Anakin sneered as he pulled back from the older man. "Yet you still felt the need to contact me?"

"Actually, no—I didn't." Luke shook his head. "You were not the Jedi I had first planned to contact."

"So, who would you have preferred to meet over your father?" Anakin's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Luke dropped his head. There was no way he could deny the truth.

"I wanted to speak with Master Kenobi."

Anakin stiffened. His expression became unreadable as his face turned into a stony mask. Luke could sense a formidable chasm of wariness instantly form and widen between them. It was fueled with suspicion and laced with a good dose of hurt.

Luke looked up at the younger man and swallowed hard. Why had his omission offended his father so severely? Had he actually believed that Luke's preference to speak with Obi-Wan was a form of rejection? That was ridiculous. But as irrational as it seemed, Anakin's reaction clearly indicated differently. Anakin's distrust continued to thicken around them, taking the conversation to a far more dangerous level. Luke could feel a tingling warning through the Force. He wished he had sensed it earlier—before he had opened his mouth.

"That would not have been wise," Anakin said icily. "I may not turn you in, but I doubt that you will find any other Jedi who would be so kind."

"Even Obi-Wan?" Luke questioned.

"Especially Obi-Wan," Anakin snapped. He stood and moved to the back of the room. "He is the 'perfect Jedi' after all." The sarcasm that laced Anakin's words caused his voice to raise in volume. "There is no rule he does not follow, no law he does not uphold." The agitated Jedi began to pace nervously along the raised area in front of the glass doors leading to the veranda. "You may not want to agree with me, but you are lucky that I found you first."

Anakin's accusations were scathing, but Luke sensed that the young man truly believed them, even if it was difficult for Luke to blend the memories of the man he met in the Tatooine desert with the description of Obi-Wan his father had just offered.

"About that," Luke tried to move their conversation forward and away from this obviously touchy subject. "How did you find me?"

"I could sense your presence," Anakin explained as waved his hand dismissively. "When I first noticed you, your Force signature was very erratic—and rather annoying."

Luke looked over at this father and frowned.

"Fine. Let's just say—irritating," Anakin amended as he sensed his son's consternation. "Earlier today, you stood out like a beacon."

"And now?" Luke questioned tensely.

"Either I am getting used to you," Anakin offered as he continued to pace, "or your signature has calmed considerably."

"Probably a bit of both," Luke acknowledged. "I was warned that my presence could be detected immediately after I arrived. I was also told that I would eventually acclimate to this time."

"Yet you still came to the Temple—twice," Anakin said. "That was certainly reckless of you."

"Rather runs in the family, wouldn't you agree?" Luke could not help but offer the jab.

"At least I can deal with the consequences of my actions," Anakin countered. "You, on the other hand... Your skills appear to be rather...lacking."

"You're not catching me at my best," he shrugged. "An unknown side-effect of my arrival was a temporary loss of my ability to use the Force. Thankfully, that complication appears to be improving as well."

"What?" Anakin gasped. "You can't... Why didn't you say something?" His voice rose noticeably in his growing agitation. "And why in the nine hells did you follow me out onto that ledge?"

"You didn't give me much of a choice," Luke countered. He was surprised at the depth of emotion that he was sensing from his father. They had just met hours ago—he wasn't even sure that Anakin totally believed who he was. But still, the man's seemingly overprotective concern was exploding full force.

"I thought you were shielding your presence." Anakin shook his head in disbelief as he continued his pacing. "I never knew… Kriff, you nearly fell!"

"Yes, I am quite aware of that," Luke replied dryly.

"Ani?" A quiet feminine voice penetrated through the shadows. "Is that you?"

The reaction to the spoken inquiry was immediate by both inhabitants of the room. Luke jumped up and moved to the darkest corner he could find. He pressed against the sidewall of the foyer, hoping to manage at least a glance at the owner of the voice. It was obvious to him that it would be his mother.

Anakin's movements were just as quick. Several long strides took him to the open hallway leading to the rest of the apartment just in time to meet the petite frame of the young woman entering the room.

***

Padmé emerged from the bedroom wearing a soft blue nightgown that hung loosely from her frame and flowed elegantly to the ground. Her long hair was mussed, and her eyes were half closed and unfocused with sleep. Yet still, she was beyond beautiful to the eyes of the husband who now stood before her. He took her up into his strong arms as he deftly angled her swollen body so that her back was to the main part of the room. Anakin kept her close as he cautiously glanced around to find where Luke had moved. Seeing him well hidden, he relaxed slightly and focused on the questioning face of his beloved.

"I'm sorry I woke you," Anakin soothed. "Forgive me?" He gave a half grin that he knew would always work to defuse any possible ire.

"Who were you talking to?" Padmé groggily asked.

"No one, my love," he intoned softly. "I—I was meditating."

"But—I heard voices," she protested.

"Maybe it was the baby," he smiled wickedly.

"That's not funny," she pouted, pulling away from his embrace. Still keeping her small hands on his chest, she looked up into his intense blue eyes. "It's late, Ani. Come to bed."

"I will in a moment, my love." Anakin bent forward to kiss the top of her forehead. "I just want to secure the apartment."

Padmé cocked her head and narrowed her eyes as she looked worriedly at her husband. Anakin could clearly see that his odd comment had raised her suspicions. She wouldn't understand the cause for it. He knew that her staff would have made sure that all was secure. Her safety was their priority, after all.

Anakin swallowed hard and waited expectantly in the darkness for her rebuke, but it never came. She had obviously thought better than to question him. His inner guilt raged as he silently acknowledged his recent inability to hide his troubled thoughts from her since his arrival home just days ago—especially after she had made her very unexpected announcement in the foyer of the Senate building.

Without speaking another word, she nodded her concurrence, turned, and slowly made her way back to the bedroom. She was apparently willing to trust him and give him a few more moments to sit in the dark and gather his thoughts. Of course, Anakin realized that she would not tolerate much more than that. It was already late, and he was sure that she would not want to waste what was left of the night alone.

***

Waiting until he was sure she had left, Luke stepped out of the shadows and walked back to the center of the room. He folded his arms across his chest and watched the still rather rattled form of his father.

_"Maybe it's the baby?"_ Luke queried with a raised brow.

"I didn't expect her to wake up," Anakin mumbled grudgingly at the older man. He turned sharply and again began to pace nervously along the back of the room. "She generally sleeps soundly."

"She's pregnant," Luke shrugged.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Anakin stopped short. The confusion in his voice was evident.

Luke smiled. "You haven't been around much lately, have you?"

"I was assigned to the Outer Rim Sieges for months," Anakin explained as he ran a gloved hand through his disheveled hair. "I did not discover her…condition until I arrived home just days ago."

"I take it you weren't expecting an addition to the family."

"No, not at all." Anakin shook his head and began pacing once more. He suddenly stopped and turned intently toward his son. "But, Luke," Anakin said quickly with an intense flame of passion burning within his eyes, "unexpected does not mean unwanted."

Luke felt his mouth drop in response to Anakin's comment. Feeling tremendous waves of warmth wash over him in correlation with his father's words, Luke barely needed the Force to understand the depth of emotions that his father was transmitting in his direction. He was left speechless. All he could do was to stare at the young man numbly.

"Ani?" Padmé's voice echoed down the hall from the bedroom. It blessedly broke the tense moment. "Did you remember to bring home the shuura fruit?"

The young Jedi cringed as if he had been hit with a blaster round. He groaned softly through clenched teeth. "Sorry, angel," he responded contritely. "I—"

"_Anakin!"_ Padmé's disappointment was palpable as it rippled through the darkened apartment.

Luke, who had quickly recovered from his emotional stupor, brought his hand to his mouth to cover the smile that had formed there. Although it had been over eight years, he clearly remembered the difficulties of appeasing a very pregnant wife. His father barely had a clue of the minefield he had just entered. At this moment, Luke held great pity for the man.

"Can you please find me something else out there to eat?" she called again. "The baby is hungry."

_Well, maybe not hungry, _Luke thought to himself with an amused smile. _But definitely in need of rest._

"Yes, my love," Anakin answered his wife's plea. Quickly glancing around the apartment, he focused his eyes on the dining room table. He raised an arm, and a bowl of farrberries glided effortlessly into his hand.

"So," Luke voiced. It was obvious to him that their interrupted conversation had come to an end—for now. He folded his arms over his chest. "Do you have a spare room, or will I be using one of these couches?"

"What?" Anakin gasped—nearly dropping the fruit in his hands. "Don't be ridiculous. You can't stay here."

So much for the warm fuzzy feeling—Anakin's panicked reaction sent a spike of annoyance through Luke, who sighed heavily. "You seem to be forgetting," Luke grumbled through clenched teeth, "you are the one who dragged me all across Coruscant. I had a place waiting for me—but it is close to the Temple...where I am not. And I'm not about to walk all the way back over there now."

"Still, you can't stay here." Anakin started to pace nervously again. "If Padmé was to find you... No! She can't know of your existence. It—it would be too upsetting. I don't want to cause her any undue stress."

Luke straightened as he sensed a flair in the Force rippling an urgent warning. He felt a pang of disappointment at his father's refusal, but more than that, he could feel the other man's all-consuming worry. He narrowed his eyes and looked suspiciously toward his father.

"Why?" Luke questioned quietly. "Is she not well?"

"She tells me that she is fine, but I have reason to believe…" Anakin shook his head, "…never mind."

Vader's words during his transit here jolted into Luke's mind. It caused a ripple of concern to course through him. Luke tentatively hoped that his father had not picked up on his inadvertent reaction. As he watched his father continue to agitatedly pace, he realized that the younger man was too consumed with his own thoughts to notice.

Finally, however, Anakin stopped and looked toward Luke. "Two floors down," he began, "there is a maintenance office just inside the private hangar. No one will be in there at this time of night." He reached into his belt to retrieve the same cylindrical instrument that he had used earlier. "Here," he said, tossing it toward Luke, who caught it deftly. "This will get you in. Last time I was in there, I remember seeing a blanket rolled up on top of some lockers."

"You expect me to sleep in a maintenance office?" Luke was aghast.

"I don't expect you to sleep at all," Anakin said softly, shaking his head. "I doubt that I will."

"Anakin, come to bed!" Padmé's voice interrupted their conversation once more. Her tone was much more commanding this time.

Luke could see that his mother's insistent demand had its desired effect on his father, for the man turned and started to walk toward the bedroom. Luke grimaced. He realized that Anakin would not be changing his mind.

Anakin stopped just as he reached the alcove of the hall. He turned back to Luke, who was still standing dumbfounded in the center of the room.

"Meet me back here at 0500 hours tomorrow," Anakin whispered. "I'll have a better idea as to how to continue this discussion by then."

Feeling rather slighted by his father's hurried dismissal, Luke turned and stalked out to the foyer. With growing exasperation, he used his fist to pound on the controls to call for the turbolift. It arrived quickly. He briskly walked into the pod and turned around. As the doors closed, he sent the most annoyed glare he could muster toward the young man standing in the darkness holding a bowl of fruit.

***

Anakin stood silently for a moment, staring at the closed doors of the turbolift. His emotions were in turmoil. Earlier this evening, his mind had been running rampant with the implications of the Chancellor's latest decree, his concerns over the never-ending war, and his heightened fears for the lives of his family.

And now…

He wasn't exactly sure when it had happened, but sometime over the last few hours, he had accepted what the Force had been confirming ever since the older man had made his preposterous declaration. He had a son—a grown-up son. Unbelievable as it was, he had just spent the last few hours in the company of a man who had yet to be born… Anakin shook his head in amazement. Lifting a hand, he extinguished the lights and moved toward the bedroom and his wife. If only he could get some sleep. He was sure that he could figure this out in the morning.

***

_"Insignificant bugs,"_ he mused darkly as he watched the crisscrossing pattern of flitting light. _"So feeble and irrelevant." _

In many ways, the clutter of air speeders that streaked outside of the transparisteel window of his grand office reminded him of the glow-gnats that would become such a bother during the summers on Naboo. They existed in their fragile world until—finally annoyed by their fruitless endeavors—a greater being would lose his tolerance and simply swat them away.

Soon, this would be his world, his galaxy—his and his alone—to mould, to control…to dominate. He would be the one to swat away the meek and unproductive—or more aptly, he would be the one giving the order to do so.

He leaned back into his leather chair and steepled his fingers against his age-wrinkled chin as he continued his dark musings. His newly chosen enforcer was nearly ready. That had been quite evident by his overeager acceptance of the order to unknowingly dispatch his predecessor. If it had not been for Kenobi's infernal presence, he was sure that the boy would already be standing by his side. _But there is no pressing urgency at the moment,_he thought to himself. The best vintage of wine was one that required its fruit to be cultivated to the peak of ripeness...And so it was to be with his next apprentice. There was still more grooming to be performed, more preparation to be made—but soon... soon the boy would be ready for harvest_. _

Listening to incessant hours of childish exploits may have been tedious, but it had been necessary to avail him of the opportunity to plant seeds of distrust in the youth's heart—right under the watchful eye of the boy's Jedi Master. His future servant was now nearly under his control and did not even realize it. He had even managed to instill an undetectable pathway enabling him to project the nightmares that fed on the boy's darkest fears with no one the wiser.

Ah, yes, the Sith smiled sinisterly, the foundation had been well laid. At the proper time, all he would need to do was pull the right strings, and then the Jedi's prized _Chosen One_ would be his. Everything was set. His plans were so well advanced they should afford him no concern. All was as he had foreseen.

Except for that one unexpected aberration...

The galaxy's lone Sith Lord pursed his lips in consternation as he tightened his jaw. His mind flickered back to the unnerving ripple he had felt through the Force during his supposed "rescue" from the _Invisible Hand._It had been disturbing enough when he first felt the enigmatic vibration that he had nearly revealed himself in an urgent need to track its source. He was fortunate that Kenobi had been lying senseless and that the boy....Well, the boy had been preoccupied. Despite the unanticipated interruption, he had held his false persona firm. And his pathetically blind Jedi saviors had been none the wiser.

His apprentice, however, had felt the same disturbance that continued to trouble him. Of that, he was sure. It had caused Tyranus a moment's hesitation. The distraction had been enough to shift the flow of the duel in which he was engaged at the time and allow the boy to disarm him…literally. The corners of his age-wrinkled mouth tweaked into a wicked grin. Maybe he should be thankful for the anomaly. It had ultimately served his purpose after all. It had allowed an unworthy person—the proverbial glow-gnat—to be swept away to make way for the ascension of his far superior apprentice.

But the troubling disturbance had not ended there. He had thought that he had felt that same odd ripple earlier today as well. Although it was far less noticeable—appearing as a mere shadow of its earlier emanation—it was just as perturbing. When he had first sensed it, Sidious had felt perversely offended that this anomaly had dared violate his domain of the Senate. But once again, the petty duties of this soon to be abolished position of Supreme Chancellor had prevented his pursuit of the source of his quandary.

By the time he had dismissed the array of hovering sycophants, his quarry had been overshadowed by the overwhelming presence of the boy. Skywalker's presence flared as brightly as a pulsar whenever he was near—especially when he was occupying his time with that vexing clandestine wife of his. He scowled as he could no longer contain his displeasure. He silently vowed that one of the first lessons that he would endow upon his new apprentice would be how to cloak his infuriatingly strong Force signature.

With his thought drawn back to the boy, Sidious chided himself for not preparing to project this evening's dose of night terrors, but he felt no desire to do so. With little thought, he decided that tonight he would give the boy a reprieve. One night could not possibly change the direction of this impending ocean of darkness.

Instead, he would spend his time meditating on that strange vibration. He would worry through this one last puzzle, unravel this annoying mystery, and hunt for the infuriating ripple that tugged at his consciousness.

Not that it truly mattered, of course. He was still certain that it did not mean anything. It couldn't. He had waited such an exceedingly long time for this moment. He had been infinitely patient—inscrutably meticulous in his planning. His eyes flashed with icy anticipation under his oversized cowl. It was almost time to unveil his full intentions and ascend to his destiny. Everything was proceeding as foreseen. There was nothing that could foil his plans.

***

Luke bunched up his rolled poncho as best as he could to make something lamely resembling a pillow for his head. He laid down against the ferrocrete wall on half of the thin blanket he had found. The mechanical office was as cold and uninviting as he had feared it would be. He had finally given up trying to rest propped up in the padded swivel chair just moments ago. Each minor movement had made the poorly maintained piece of furniture squeak annoyingly. The constant aggravation had caused him to reach to the Force and toss one of his discarded boots across the room in frustration.

If he hadn't been so exasperated, he might have been pleased with his returning abilities. But right now, he was too preoccupied with other matters. Mainly, his father…

Either through the design of the Force or his own misguided efforts, Luke had finally met his father—his real father. This was the father he had dreamed about wanting to know as a boy, the enigmatic essence that seemingly called to his heart from the ashes of an abandoned Temple apartment, the precursor to the man whom he had only glimpsed once before as he lay broken, repentant, and dying.

Although their initial encounter had been relatively brief, Luke had gotten quite a first impression of that man, and it had not been encouraging. Anakin Skywalker defied everything that Luke believed a Jedi should be. He was rash and quick-tempered; his actions were both reckless and foolhardy. His erratic emotions were intense and so very—volatile!

Being in the presence of his father was like holding onto an activated thermal detonator, flying too close to a supernova, or venturing out into a sandstorm—possibly all three at the same time! But what had surprised him the most was that the young Jedi had shown so much fear! It made the Jedi Master within him wonder just how a Jedi Council of any time period could have thought that his father was an acceptable candidate for Knighthood. Luke exhaled a deep sigh of frustration.

But there were the other emotions he had felt from the young man. Luke had clearly sensed his father's concern over his well being, his immediate protective worry that seemed to flair instantly. And then there was that blatant admission of affection from a father to his son.

Luke rolled onto his back to stare at the blank ceiling. _"Unexpected does not mean unwanted..." _He could still hear his father's words in his mind. Luke's eyes began to mist in response. He felt somewhat embarrassed by his emotional display, and a small part of him wondered why. Wasn't Anakin's acknowledgment something that he had always wanted to hear? Hadn't he always wanted to know that he and Leia had been wanted children—a blessing like his own son had been for he and Mara? He could acutely feel his father's commitment to his statement singing through the Force. It had been overwhelming, but it had also been troubling to learn the truth. Especially considering what might be required of him.

Ever since he had decided to commit to the Temporal Ward's offer, the thought of this initial encounter had incited profound dread, yet it had tempted him with exhilaration. When he had first pledged himself to repair the past, he had believed that he was to be his father's destroyer. But could he be so now? And if not, then what would happen if Anakin still fell to the Dark Side?

Luke sobered suddenly with the recognition that just this encounter alone had changed history. His admission of familiarity and the knowledge of his very existence could lead to a greater catastrophe than what had already once befallen the galaxy.

Like it or not, Luke realized that his path had been clearly set. He needed to stay close to his father. He needed to learn why Anakin had decided to seek darkness over light, to discover what was likely his father's undoing—and then prevent it from happening. If his encounter with Vader was to be believed, then he already had a major clue. He would need to discover what danger surrounded his mother and why she would need to be saved.

Luke exhaled heavily as he tried to will himself to relax. He wished desperately that he still had possession of the crystal orb. It certainly had helped with his meditations. It no doubt would have helped him find the answers he needed now. But if that was not to be the case, then he had to look for those answers elsewhere. If only he could find help in doing so...

Luke's mind immediately shifted to thoughts of old Ben. Despite Anakin's volatile reaction, he could not bring himself to believe that the man would not want to help his father if he knew the danger that surrounded him. Luke had felt the older man's regret and sense of loss too deeply when he had talked about him. Luke rolled over and tried to make himself comfortable. No, despite his father's direct warning, he still needed to find a way. He still needed to contact Obi-Wan...

***

Listening to the calming sound of running water and the relaxing night music of chirping insects around him, he shifted again as he tried to relieve the uncomfortable tightness in his back. This blasted war was turning him into an old man, he grumbled to himself. Pulling his head back to lean against the cool marble of the raised fountain wall, he inhaled deeply, releasing his anxious thoughts and bodily aches.

The Room of a Thousand Fountains had always been consoling to his soul. It was his last resort when he could not find peace anywhere else. He had come down here for guidance and solace of spirit, but tonight—not even this restful location was coming to his aid. Obi-Wan could not keep his thoughts from continuing to stray back to Anakin. His brother was in pain; he could feel it. Yet, as always, Anakin was being obstinately resistant to his offers of help and support.

A few years back, he would not have tolerated the younger man's infuriating conduct. He would have barged into Anakin's apartment and demanded a full explanation of his troubling behavior. Not that his actions would have gotten him very far. Even in his youth, Anakin had been nothing if not stubborn.

But despite how much he wanted to intercede, Anakin was not his Padawan anymore and he no longer had the right. Although Obi-Wan knew that Anakin was fully capable in his abilities as Jedi Knight, he had never lost the feeling that he needed to watch over him. Obi-Wan absently wondered if it was normal for an ex-Master to feel so overprotective, or if this was just a consequence of being far too attached to the boy—young man, he corrected himself. A smile tugged at his lips. Anakin would have been furious if he had caught wind of his inadvertent slip.

Furious—Obi-Wan sighed. That was part of the problem. He had felt that worrisome emotion flow virulently through Anakin earlier tonight through the training bond they had formed over a decade ago and had never quite had the inclination to sever. A dizzying conflagration of emotions had flared up—shock, fear, anger... He was used to feeling fear and anger from his ex-Padawan. It was distressing to him that those volatile emotions were becoming ever more commonplace—especially over the last few months.

Obi-Wan had contemplated seeking the young man out to inquire about the cause of his emotional outburst, but he knew there was no point. Anakin had already left the Temple. Obi-Wan had felt his absence, but he had not reported Anakin's blatant disregard of the nightly curfew—he never did. Obi-Wan imagined that ex-apprentice was currently terrorizing the populace with his harrowing antics in a speeder or donning a disguise so that he could participate in some form of illicit underworld racing. He had been pulling such stunts for years. Obi-Wan had never reprimanded him for it. He doubted that Anakin was even aware that he knew of his late night escapades.

The Jedi Master had turned a blind eye on his apprentice's need for thrill-seeking and adventure to keep him occupied and diverted from—more dangerous temptations. Like a certain young Senator from Naboo. He sighed again as he remembered that little display from yesterday's ceremony. For the past three years, he had counted on the belief that at least one of the pair could maintain a firm grip on the realities of life. He had been confident that Senator Amidala was more than capable of feigning off the unwanted attentions of a misguided young Jedi as they both waited for Anakin to outgrow his boyhood crush on the young woman. But after witnessing the interaction between the two, his apprehension regarding the entire situation had suddenly grown exponentially.

As with all of Anakin's other antics, Obi-Wan now knew that he should have stepped in years ago when he still had some say over the young man's life. But he couldn't do that now. He would be impelled to defer to the same course of reasoning that he always used. He would give Anakin the space and time he needed to work out the matter on his own. He would be there for support and to offer advice if asked. Above all else, he would trust the young man to come to his own solution. Despite everything that had been happening of late, he still trusted Anakin. He trusted him with his life—and would always do so.

Obi-Wan exhaled again. There was no point in continuing this charade. He would find no peace this night. He opened his eyes and looked around the darkened room. He was nearly alone. Most of his brethren had long since retired for the day. He should do so as well. Reaching to his side, he picked up the datapad that he had brought with him. Activating it with his thumb, he scrolled through the precise wording of the most recent decree to be issued from the Supreme Chancellor's Office. There would be nothing but trouble to come from this, he knew. It would start in the morning. The Jedi Council had already sent a notice that they would be meeting an hour earlier than scheduled. They had sent the notification to Anakin as well—commanding him to be present. He hoped that the young man had not turned off his comlink—as was his usual wont during his all-night escapades—and had at least received the message. He brought a hand up to smooth down his beard.

"Oh, Anakin," he whispered into the night. "What have you gotten yourself into this time?"

***

Anakin lay with his head propped up on his metallic hand. He watched his wife's soft breathing as she lay curled next to his body. His love for this woman ran so deep it affected every strand of his being. He had believed that there was nothing in the universe that could come close to his devotion for this woman—but now, he was not so sure.

Thoughts over the interrupted encounter with Luke were still swirling around in his head. But more than the words they had exchanged, Anakin was thinking about the feelings that had briefly passed between them. His limited attempt to search the older man's mind for deception had apparently established a mental bond between them, though it was fragile at best. Anakin had not even realized that it had been created until Luke had left his apartment. The farther away Luke traveled, the greater the ache grew within his heart. Anakin could clearly feel the empty space craving to be filled by the presence of his son.

He started to reach out with his hand to place it on Padmé swollen abdomen. He was sure that he would sense a similar presence from the unborn child that slept within. He grinned in anticipation of their mental touch.

Anakin's hand suddenly stilled as his face dropped into a troubled frown. Concerns regarding the depth of the rapport between a Force sensitive child and the child's mother crept into his mind. The ramifications of such a relationship was something that had never been discussed—at least not during his training at the Temple. The Jedi had obviously not seen a need to elaborate on the issue, as adherence to the Code would have precluded involvement in such matters.

Would Luke's higher concentration of midichlorians seep through their prenatal bond to affect Padmé? She had seemed to be especially perceptive of his moods since his return. Could that be the reason? Or was he just failing miserably at hiding his riotous fears and frustrations? Could the action to seek out his son's essence awaken her?

His frown deepened. It would probably be a very bad idea to even attempt such an endeavor. They had agreed to keep the details of their unborn child a secret. If Padmé woke to find him hovering over her, she would believe that he had broken his vow—would think that he was too impatient to discover their child's gender to wait the month and a half left before their baby's birth. He wouldn't betray her trust like that. Anakin slowly drew away. He raised his arms and laced his fingers behind his head as he shifted positions to lay flat on his back. His curiosity had been sated already by Luke's presence. He would simply have to be patient until morning to feel their familial bond flair between them once more. After all, it wouldn't be too long to wait.

As if in response to his subconscious pondering, Padmé moved in her sleep and rolled herself over to lay her head on his bare chest. The soothing touch of her body caused him to relax and release his anxieties. How could he possibly exist without her? He wondered, but he knew it was a question he did not want to ask—and a situation he never wanted to deal with. Anakin leaned over his sleeping wife.

"I love you so much, Padmé," he whispered. Moving forward, he kiss the top of her head as he reached over to wrap his arm protectively around her shoulder. Unable to resist the urge, he had to speak the words aloud: "And our love has created a beautiful son."

Pulling himself back, he closed his eyes and relaxed into the soft bedding. Picturing the strong face of the man he accepted as his son, he could not help but smile once more. For the first time in weeks, Anakin felt at peace,knowing that those he loved were safe and close to him. He exhaled deeply and relinquished himself to the influence of the insistent waves of sleep that quickly washed over him.


	18. Chapter 18 In The Light of Day

_A/N #1: I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy._

_A/N #2: This story would not be what it is without the help of my very competent beta reader, "Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu." Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated._

_A/N #3: I just wanted to give everyone a heads up that future updates may be a bit slower in coming in the near future. This is in no way to be taken as an indication of lack of interest in completing this story on my part. It is simply a matter of an anticipated seasonal increase in my workload, an unexpected health crisis affecting an elderly family member, and an ongoing battle with Darth Real Life that seems to be sapping both my time and my mental energy of late. I want to make sure that the quality of this story remains high, so I will not rush through a chapter just to get it posted. I hope you will understand._

* * *

**Chapter 18 – In The Light of Day**

"Good morning, sir," the protocol droid greeted in his most formal manner. "I am See-Threepio. How may I be of service?"

Luke could only stare blankly at the gold-plated droid that greeted him as he stepped out of the turbolift. Coming face to face with a replica of the automaton that he had known for decades completely dumbfounded him, his surprise even causing him to momentarily forget to breathe. Luke marveled at the unbelievable coincidence that he would find such a familiar face here. He was even more amazed that this droid would share the same model number. If the real Threepio had been standing here, he was sure that he would be spouting the astronomical odds against such an occurrence.

"Excuse me, sir," the protocol droid pushed the stupefied man for a response. "How may I help you?"

"Um," Luke cleared his throat uncomfortably.

The golden droid tipped his head to the side. His round visual sensors blinked off for a moment before returning to their brightly lit status. Luke started. He recognized the unique response instantly. It was an anomalous bit of programming meant to imitate an eye blink which he had never seen replicated. This was not just another protocol droid displaying similar behaviors. There was no denying the finicky droid's identify. This was the real See-Threepio—_his _See-Threepio—or actually, Leia's...

A slight smile tweaked at his lips as he pulled out of his daze. "I'm here to see Anakin Skywalker," Luke offered lamely, still recovering from his initial shock. "He asked me to meet him here."

"I am sorry, sir." Threepio responded, completely oblivious to Luke's unraveled state. "You must have the wrong apartment. This is the residence of Senator Amidala. There is no one named Skywalker here."

"It's all right, Threepio," Anakin called out as he entered the main room. He effortlessly bounded down the steps into the lower level of the living quarters while adjusting the buckles of the padded gauntlet covering his right arm. "I invited him."

The golden droid turned his stiff body so that he could view the young man and address him directly.

"Oh…Yes, sir, of course," Threepio acknowledged with a slight bow of his shiny head. The droid shuffled back several steps to allow Luke access to the apartment. He held out his arms and asked, "May I take your things, sir?"

"Uh, no thanks," Luke said as he glanced over at his father. "I don't believe I'll be staying long."

"You must have gotten some rest," Anakin remarked to his son, although he kept his attention on his own actions. "Your Force signature is a lot calmer. I didn't even sense you until you were at the door."

Luke was still rather vexed at being so rudely hustled out of the apartment and relegated to spend the remainder of the night in the sparse and uncomfortable maintenance office. Seeing his father so relaxed and rested seemed only to irritate him all the more. He was sure that his agitated demeanor and the sharp tone of his voice was clearly indicating his foul mood.

"I wouldn't exactly call what I managed to attain last night rest," Luke quipped. "But yes," he begrudgingly acknowledged, "my connection to the Force has much improved."

Anakin appeared to be too distracted by the troublesome buckle to notice the depth of his son's terse response. "Threepio," he called once more to the droid. "Please see to your mistress. I don't believe the farberries agreed with her last night."

"Oh, my!" Threepio exclaimed, emulating all the concern his electronic voice could muster. "Of course, sir. I will do my best." He gave a curt bow to both men before scurrying off down the hall. Luke could not help but grin as he watched him intently.

"You seem intrigued by my bit of handiwork," Anakin commented as he observed his son's scrutiny of the golden droid exit from the room.

"You built him?" Luke's attention snapped back to his father. The claim of creation had surprised Luke—almost as much as seeing Threepio here in the first place.

"A childhood project, actually," Anakin admitted casually as he finished adjusting his dark tunic and leather tabard. He suddenly stilled, an odd expression crossed over his features. Luke had seen that same stricken look before. It had shadowed his nephew Jacen's expression more than once—especially over the few months immediately following the attack on Corellia. It made Luke wonder what unpleasant memories were so deeply haunting his father.

"I originally made him so that he could help my mother," Anakin intoned softly. His eyes stared, unfocused, toward the view of the brightening Coruscanti dawn. "When that was no longer possible, I gave him to Padmé." Anakin shook his head to clear his thoughts from where they had led him. He glanced over at Luke before continuing. "Over the past three years, I have often regretted my rather overzealous attention to his programming. But your mother will not allow me to make any adjustments." He chuckled amusedly. "She claims that she finds him most endearing just the way he is."

Luke raised a hand over his mouth to try and stifle his own chuckle. Despite his desire to remain in his foul mood, he was finding it difficult to do so. Anakin's admission brought Threepio's strange behavior into such a better perspective. Han had always declared that Threepio was a subversive menace. He had even gone as far as to claim that the prissy protocol droid had been created by the devil himself. Luke was sure that if Han was ever to find out that Luke's father had been Threepio's maker, even though he was only a boy at the time—well, his brother-in-law would feel totally vindicated.

"Then I am sure that it will please you to know that Threepio is still quite functional in my time," Luke commented to his father as he folded his arms across his chest.

"Really?" Anakin replied, a glint of pride crossing his face. "I'm surprised that no one has ever taken a blaster to him."

"Well," Luke grinned, "I never said that." He finally allowed his remaining tension to wash away.

Anakin smiled as he walked over to the back sofa where he had previously discarded his cape. Continuing to watch his son, he began to shrug the outerwear back on.

"You were right when you told Threepio we won't be staying," Anakin noted. "I need to attend a Council meeting this morning. You can clean up in my room at the Temple while you wait for me. Then we can finish our discussion from last night...I'm sure we will have a lot to talk about—far more than just the continuing existence of a certain protocol droid."

"You're taking me with you back to the Jedi Temple?" Luke asked. He mentally checked his enthusiasm. This was exactly what he had wanted to happen.

"I have no other choice," Anakin stated coolly. "I'm not leaving you here, and until I discover more about your intentions, I plan on keeping a close eye on you."

"You don't trust me?" Luke couldn't help but ask. The question was a pointless one, however. Luke could clearly feel Anakin's apprehension through the Force.

"Trust," his father chortled derisively. "Such a simple word for something that is so hard to come by these days." He glared pointedly at his son. "Three years of fighting a war that threatens to rip apart the Republic will do that. Sometimes I wonder if peace will ever return to the galaxy." A wry grin began to work at the edges of Anakin's mouth. "Of course, I'm sure that you could tell me if it has."

Luke ignored the probe. "So you have accepted who I am."

"Impossible as it seems, I've accepted that you are my son—and that you are from the future. But by doing so, it only means that I have many more questions that only you can answer."

Luke said nothing as he shifted uncomfortably in place. Thankfully, he did not need to respond. Feeling a strong vibration through the Force, both men looked toward the arched opening that lead to the hallway at the back of the room just in time to see an angry whirlwind draped in blue shimmersilk and crowned by mussed trusses of curls storm through it.

"Anakin Skywalker!" Padmé set her dark eyes directly on the visage of her husband. "What in the three moons of Naboo did you say to Threepio? I finally had to deactivate him just so I could leave the fresher—" the petite fireball stopped short as she caught sight of the unkempt stranger standing in the middle of her living room.

It was hard to tell which of the three of them had been more shocked by the pregnant woman's fiery entrance. Padmé's eyes widened in her surprise as she self-consciously tugged at the ill-fitting robe that she wore, making a futile attempt to pull the scant material over her large abdomen. Her other hand came up to cover her mouth as she pulled away from the view of the older man to look pleadingly toward her husband. Quickly forcing himself to recover, Anakin moved fluidly to her and placed a protective arm around her shoulders.

Luke simply stood and gaped at the petite women. He had barely caught sight of her in the dimly lit room a few hours before. But now, standing in the full light of the morning, he was captivated by her presence. Padmé's natural beauty radiated like the combined Tatooinian suns to fill the room. Her large dark brown eyes seemed amazingly familiar. _They're Leia's eyes,_ he mused. Although her features reflected her nervous consternation, her inner strength and determination were easily discernible through the Force.

_This is my mother._ The thought thundered inside his brain. He could feel his throat closing and his eyes misting with a surge of emotion.

"It's all right, Padmé," Anakin attempted to soothe her as he pulled her into a tighter embrace. "He—is a friend."

***

Padmé looked warily between her husband and the disheveled-looking stranger. She tried her best to overcome her initial shock and present a more composed air as she assessed the man. The shabby, ill-fitting clothes did not present a particularly good first impression of her husband's declared "friend," but as she looked into the older man's face, something familiar struck her. There was an undefined quality within his dazzling blue eyes, she mused. They were almost as striking as Anakin's. Although the stranger appeared tired and worn, she could still perceive a gentleness that seemed to emanate from within him, but she could also sense great sorrow overshadowing his heart. That realization caused her to instinctively feel compassion toward the man.

She straightened herself the best she could. Despite her less than stellar appearance, she mustered her most senatorial tone. "Then please introduce me—Knight Skywalker," she requested.

***

Anakin's face dropped. Although barely discernible in her voice, he could clearly recognize Padmé's underlying irritation at this unexpected intrusion into the sanctity of their home. He had no idea how he was ever going to explain this. He had tried to make a practice of being honest with his wife, but what could he say to her now? There was no way he could tell her that this man standing before her was the child she carried within her womb. He swallowed hard and remained awkwardly silent.

"Well?" Padmé pulled away and crossed her arms over her chest defensively, giving her husband a sharp glance as she did so. Her impatience was obviously growing exponentially.

"Uh," Anakin started. He schooled his features into lopsided grin, trying to soften her mood. He could tell it wasn't working. "This is Luke …" He hesitated, not knowing exactly what to call their son.

"Luke Jade," the older man inserted smoothly, relieving Anakin from his dilemma. He stepped forward and proffered a formal bow to Padmé.

_Jade? _Anakin turned sharply to glare at the blond-haired man. A sharp knife of suspicion sliced through him as he heard Luke's declaration. Instantly roiling at the thought of duplicity, he felt a pressing urge to reach for his lightsaber before sanity finally seeped back into his brain.

Of course, Luke would use a different name. Anakin had been adamant that Padmé was not to know of Luke's existence last night. He took a moment to wonder why his son had chosen that alias before realizing that he had more immediate issues to deal with. He could feel Padmé's growing anxiety as she stood next to him. She wanted answers, and he knew that she was expecting to hear them from him. He desperately worked his mind to come up with an explanation... One that would sound at least somewhat plausible—or if not plausible—at least possible... Okay, he was so desperate at the moment, he would take just about anything...

He silently thanked the Force when an idea finally popped into his head.

"Luke has been away on a very long undercover mission," he explained, trying to keep his voice from cracking. "He just arrived back on Coruscant. I was about to escort him back to the Temple."

"You have been serving in the Outer Rim, then?" Padmé asked. Her husband's odd behavior clearly seemed to be fueling her growing suspicions. Her concerns were not unfounded. The disheveled man did not appear to be anything like the Jedi she was used to seeing.

"I've come from a bit farther away than that," Luke smiled. He appeared to be totally captivated by the young woman's presence.

Padmé hazarded a nervous glance toward her husband. Anakin could clearly feel through the Force that the evasive answers she was receiving from both men were making her decidedly uncomfortable. She turned back toward the bearded stranger. "Are you a Jedi Knight?" Padmé inquired warily.

"Yes, I am," Luke acknowledged. A childish urge for parental approval drove him further. "Actually," he dropped his head and smiled, "I am a Master."

"Anakin?" Padmé's apprehension spiked and filled the room with the stranger's admission. Anakin knew that fears that their clandestine marriage would be exposed were surging through her thoughts.

"Don't worry, Angel," Anakin tried to reassure her. "Luke will not say anything about us to the Council."

Feeling his young mother's dread, Luke tried to ease her distress, "It's all right. Your secret is safe with me. I'm a married man too, after all. And I have a son."

Padmé visibly calmed. However, Anakin tensed. He had barely accepted meeting the man that his unborn son would grow to be. But now... The unexpected disclosure that he was a grandfather—or would be—was near overwhelming. The young Knight swallowed audibly and willed his knees not to buckle from the revelation.

_Stang! I'm only twenty-three! _Anakin thought silently as he forced himself to breathe. The dull throbbing in his temples that had threatened to consume him when he first discovered Luke in the underground returned with a vengeance. He unconsciously raked a shaking hand through his hair, wishing desperately for a shot of Johrian whiskey. Of course at this point, he wouldn't have noticed a difference between the taste of whiskey and that of hydraulic fluid. In fact, he acknowledged, to put him out of his current misery—a shot of either would do at the moment.

"And here I thought that Anakin was the only scoundrel Jedi." Padmé smiled her relief as she slipped her arm around her husband's waist. The sound of her sweet voice and the pressure of her touch were enough to cut through the fog clouding Anakin's mind and bring him back into the moment. He forced a pained smile as he gazed down into his wife's loving eyes.

"You have no idea how many of us scoundrels there are loose in the galaxy," Luke smiled, bemused.

"Padmé," Anakin blurted. "We have to go to the Temple." His voice cracked uncharacteristically. Anakin focused his vision back on his son. In doing so, he realized that Luke appeared quite entertained while watching him struggle with the quandary he had beset upon him. Anakin narrowed his eyes. He was not amused.

"So soon?" Padmé pouted.

Anakin forced himself to turn his attention back to her. "Yes, my love. As I told you, I can't be late this morning," he explained. After lingering in her embrace a moment longer, he gave her a chaste kiss on her forehead and released her from his arms.

"We have to leave—immediately," Anakin added sharply as he turned and glared at the older man. Moving swiftly, the young Knight made his way to the foyer.

"I do hope we will have an opportunity to meet again, Master Jade," Padmé's words stopped the older man before he could follow.

"I'm sure that can be arranged." Luke smiled broadly. He reached out to take his mother's extended hand and kissed the back of it gently. He could sense she was truly a remarkable woman.

"Luke!" Anakin stood nervously at the opening turbolift doors. "Now..." he tipped his head in a silent order as to the necessity of their departure.

Luke bowed one final goodbye to his mother and then turned and obediently followed his father's request.

***

During his stay in his impromptu hideaway, Luke had spent much of his time lying on the cold tile floor of the maintenance office silently cataloging the myriad of reasons for his growing indignation toward his father. Somewhere amid those long, sleepless hours, he had changed his focus to busy his mind with plotting some form of retribution for the discomfort Anakin had forced upon him. Although the encounter with his mother had been unexpected, gauging from the quivering mass of jangled nerves and swirling emotions that he could clearly sense emanating from his father, he had gotten his vengeance. Luke began to feel a wicked twinge of satisfaction. Revenge, though normally unbecoming of a Jedi, did have its brighter moments.

Unfortunately, the longer they silently stood together in the descending turbolift, the more apparent it became that Anakin's agitation was festering. There was a storm brewing, though Luke was unsure when exactly it would hit.

The doors of the pod suddenly swished open, revealing the private landing platform where Luke had spent the prior night. Anakin had obviously planned a different form of transportation back to the Temple. Apparently, Luke would not have to endure another harrowing ride on that infernal death-trap that he had been subjected to earlier. He could not be more pleased.

Of course, nothing was to be that easy. As soon as they stepped out of the pod, Anakin whipped around and grabbed Luke by a handful of clothing and threw him against the unyielding brick wall.

"Why didn't you tell me you were married?" Anakin demanded.

"Is slamming people into walls some sort of perverse hobby of yours, or am I just special?" Luke growled as he ignored his father's question. He ripped away from the enraged Jedi's grasp so that he could put some distance between them. He focused on reining in his own fury at being the target of another of his father's unwarranted attacks.

"Answer the question!" Anakin bellowed at his son.

"I didn't have the chance to tell you last night." Luke held his ground and stared impenitently into his father's intense blue eyes. "You're the one who kicked me out of your apartment, remember?"

"First you are surprised that I have broken the Code," Anakin seethed, "and now you announce that you have done the same."

"The Jedi Code has changed," Luke stated coolly.

"Ridiculous," Anakin sneered. "The Code has remained the same for thousands of years."

"A little overdue for updating don't you think?"

"Why was it changed?" Anakin demanded.

"It—was necessary." Luke looked away.

"That is no answer," Anakin spat. He was obviously becoming overly agitated by Luke's evasive responses. "You have been lying to me all along."

"You know my words have been true," Luke averred. He raised his chin defiantly to the man standing before him, but as he did so, he became instantly cautious. A warning through the Force niggled at the back of his mind. Luke could sense hairline cracks of darkness fringing the heightened outpouring of his father's emotions. He was sure that they had been there all along, but he had been unable to identify them before due to his suppressed senses. It made his heart sink to realize that these fissures could be a harbinger of the terrible transformation that was soon to come. Luke buried his concern and continued to meet Anakin's eyes with resolute purpose. He soon saw the younger man's features soften.

"Your words are true, but I know that there's much more to this situation that you're not telling me." Anakin released Luke from his tumultuous glare and turned his back to him. He ran gloved fingers through his hair in an attempt to gather his wits and calm himself.

Luke sighed heavily as he continued to watch the younger man. It was apparent that his father was having difficulty coming to terms with all the ramifications of their meeting. He couldn't blame him for that. But Luke could also sense that there was something far deeper affecting the young Jedi. Was it only a need for Anakin to feel in control of a situation in which he was clearly not? Luke could not be sure.

"I thought you said you needed to attend a meeting at the Temple," Luke offered, trying to provide his father with another focus for his thoughts. "Shouldn't we be getting there?"

The taller man seemed to wilt. He dropped his head for a moment before straightening and glaring down once more upon his son. "This discussion is not over," he said as he poked a finger into Luke's chest. After a few more tense moments, Anakin turned and stalked off.

Luke remained in the same spot as he watched his father walk to the edge of the landing bay. He recognized the call box embedded next to the opening. He watched dispassionately as Anakin entered a code that he was sure would request a pick-up by the Coruscanti Public Transport service.

Deciding that his father had had enough time to cool down, Luke moved to stand by his side and look out toward the vast skyline. The sun was just barely peaking out at the edge of the horizon.

"How are your feet?" Anakin mumbled, keeping his attention straight ahead.

The edges of Luke's mouth quirked. If this was his father's attempt at an apology, it was pretty lame. But then again, Luke was pretty sure it was all that was to be offered.

"Better than last night," Luke answered icily.

"I will make sure to rectify your…situation once we reach the Temple," Anakin continued. "No son of mine should be seen in public looking as you do now."

Luke's brows creased immediately as he shot a perplexed glance toward his father.

Anakin tried valiantly to maintain an authoritative persona, but he could only bluff for so long under Luke's intense scrutiny. A brilliant smile broke over his face as he dropped and shook his head. He glanced over at his son.

"I thought I should get in some practice," Anakin explained. "Fatherhood is a pretty daunting concept—especially for me. I want to make sure I do things right from the start."

Luke clenched his fists as his body stiffened. He willed himself to keep his expression neutral and continue breathing slowly and evenly. _If Anakin only knew…_

Thankfully, the lumbering transport arrived at that moment, so Luke was spared from further comment—at least about that subject. The side doors of the large pod that had descended next to them opened with a worn hydraulic whine. Anakin quickly pulled the cowl of his dark cloak over his head.

"I don't have any credits with me for the fare," Luke stated.

Anakin quirked a brow as he glanced at the older man in consternation. "Doesn't matter," he replied as he made to step into the transport. "You're with me, and at least in this time, Jedi are allowed free access to the transit system."

The two men entered the large transport without further hesitation. Anakin's barely audible comment made to the droid stationed at the door caused it to remain silent and ignore Luke as he followed his father into the pod. They moved quickly through the wide center aisle between rows of mostly empty seats. There were a scant number of other commuters inhabiting the pod—just a pair of Rodians and a few scattered humans. Luke had the distinct feeling that his father was responsible for the oddly unnatural ignorance of their passage through the transport. When they had reached the end of the aisle, Anakin turned and sat on the long bench that covered the back wall. He waved his hand in invitation for his son to follow suit.

They rode in silence for quite some time as the well-worn transit pod lumbered its way through the busy traffic lanes. After making several additional stops to either pick up or deliver a half a dozen or so passengers, Luke looked over and noticed his father was absentmindedly fondling a small object in his left hand. He watched the younger man as he continued to twist the delicate dark item around his fingers. Although it was in far better shape than when he had last seen it, it took only a moment for Luke to recognize what the object was. The urge to discover the reason behind his father's possession of it was too much to bear.

"A hair clip?" Luke questioned.

Luke's comment jarred Anakin's thoughts back to the present. He looked down into his hand and realized what his son was talking about. He smiled mischievously and held up the delicately crafted piece of finery in a cupped hand for Luke's closer scrutiny.

"It's one of Padmé's favorites," Anakin explained with hushed tones. "I think she once told me it was a family heirloom of sorts. She will be very unhappy when she realizes that it's missing."

"Yet you took it?" Luke was perplexed by his father's apparent act of thievery.

"More like…placed it in protective custody," Anakin grinned conspiratorially. "Like I said, she will be quite upset when she can't find it. Eventually, she'll turn to me for assistance, and then…"

"Her valiant Knight will come to the rescue," Luke interrupted as he finally understood the true nature of the ruse.

Anakin smile broadened guiltily as he nodded affirmation. His eyes still focused on the fine-spun clip decorated with an array of precious stones. "Her appreciation will be well worth…" Anakin's explanation caught in his throat and his smile evaporated as he quickly glanced over at his son. He hurriedly stuffed the hair clip back into his tunic.

***

Anakin's face immediately reddened with embarrassment. _What am I doing?_ he admonished himself. Here he was—for the first time _ever_—referring to Padmé as his wife and hinting at aspects of their married life that he had never before acknowledged to another living being. And to make matters worse, the being he happened to be confiding in was his son. His very old, mature, and thinking his father was a complete idiot son. He could clearly interpret that last assumption by his son's posture—holding his hand to his mouth as if trying to avoid nausea. Anakin took a deep breath and turned away. He glued his vision forward and prayed for the last few kilometers of their trip to pass quickly.

***

Luke raised his hand to smooth down his beard in an attempt to hide the smile that he was desperate to keep from crossing his lips. _What is happening?_ he questioned himself in amazement. Here he was, in the unfathomable position of talking about his parents' private lives with his father… His very young, immature, and now totally embarrassed father. He could clearly interpret that last assumption by his father's appearance—the bright crimson flush that had crept from his neck to fully engulf his cheeks was undeniable. Luke turned away in an attempt to relieve his father from his predicament.

They spoke no further for the remainder of the trip.


	19. Chapter 19 A Different Point of View

_A/N #1: I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy._

_A/N #2: This story would not be what it is without the help of my very competent beta reader, "Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu." Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated. _

_A/N #3: I know that I warned everyone that my posting schedule would slow down, but I honestly did not expect that it would take me as long as it has to get this latest chapter out to you. I am so sorry for the wait, but I am also not foolish enough to make any promises that it will never happen again, either. I can only give my heartfelt thanks to you all for your continued interest and support of this story.  
_

* * *

**Chapter 19 – Different Point of View**

It took a special aptitude to be successful in covert operations. Considered a coveted skill by most, it was a talent that was not easily mastered. At least that was what Han had strongly professed. The one-time smuggler had always considered himself an expert when it came to eluding detection—and had become rather cocky about it at times. He and Leia tended to simply agree with the man to avoid the inevitable argument. Chewbacca, however, could never quite keep from pointing out Han's better known reputation—the one that had him storming into impossible situations with blasters blazing. Luke smiled to himself as he thought of his best friend the way he would always remember him—whole, healthy, and full of bravado.

He could easily remember many conversations where Han, emboldened by a dwindling bottle of Corellian rum, would go on for hours about the inborn qualities necessary to carry out such acts of stealth. He would often declare proudly that these highly prized attributes were inherited traits—ones which were quite evident in all three of his offspring. Leia had been less then delighted with her husband's boasts, especially when their children had been small and she had been trying to track down the elusive younglings when either bath or bedtime approached.

Thinking back on it now, Luke was coming to realize that Ben had shown a remarkable affinity for such clandestine behavior as well. There had been many times when the boy would simply disappear. It had not been uncommon for his frantic parents to find him—after considerable searching—either hard at work disassembling some small machine or just tucked away beneath a piece of furniture on the veranda of their apartment watching the sky.

Following behind his father as they made their way through the dark maze of ventilation ducts deep within the Jedi Temple, Luke had to wonder how much of Ben's and the Solo children's abilities had actually been a Skywalker trait after all. Of course, he would never mention such speculation to Han.

Anakin paused and looked back. "We've reached the dorm levels," he whispered.

Hearing the unexpected words while colliding with his father's now-stationary backside was enough to knock Luke out of his reverie. He jerked up in response and hit the back of his head against the top of the air duct. The collision not only made him momentarily see stars, but it also caused a sharp bang and a hiss of pain to reverberate through the metal shaft.

"Quiet," Anakin snapped. "Keep that up, and you'll bring every Jedi in the Temple down on our heads! Is that what you want?"

Luke didn't bother to answer. He simply closed his eyes, grimaced, and gingerly rubbed the growing bump on the back of his head.

It wasn't the first time that Anakin had scolded him this morning. And Luke was positive that it would not be the last, either. He had long since set aside his own annoyance at being reprimanded by a much younger man—and a rather irrational one at that. He figured there was no sense in making the situation any more volatile than it already was. Besides, he had enough to worry about.

Luke's most pressing concern at the moment was his fervent desire to not be the cause of inadvertently disclosing his and his father's present location to the other Jedi. Despite whatever genetic disposition his family line apparently held for subterfuge, Luke had never been stellar when it came to such abilities. Once he had learned how to handle the Force with skill, he had often relied heavily on it just to survive his frequently failed attempts at deception. But right now the option of using the Force was not available to him. Anakin had decided to take it upon himself to disguise Luke's presence with his own eclipsing Force signature—an overprotective act which was proving to be both disorienting and irritating.

Luke had ardently tried to express his objections to the younger Jedi's ill-conceived plan when Anakin had first told him of his intention. But his reasoning had fallen on deaf ears. Ever since they had left the transport which brought them close to the Temple, his father had stubbornly insisted on completely masking Luke's presence. The argument that had ensued between the two of them would have no doubt escalated if Luke had not simply relented.

It didn't help Luke's position that he had yet to give his father sufficient evidence of his own abilities—a point which his father had emphatically noted and which Luke had no choice but to begrudgingly acknowledge. It didn't appear that he would have the opportunity to prove himself differently in the near future either, as Anakin was adamant that he would continue to protect him regardless of his protests.

Luke had a feeling that there would be plenty of other battles of wills in the near future between himself and his father. He supposed this point of contention could be tolerated—or at least that was what he had initially believed; now he wasn't so sure.

Since they had entered the Temple, it felt as if his body had been wrapped in a thick comforter and his head stuffed with nerf-wool. The entire experience was proving quite frustrating to say the least. Now that he had most of his sensitivity to the Force restored, it was vexing to him that he was inhibited from accessing it. To maintain his sanity, Luke had simply tried to ignore the smothering sensations. And so, he had allowed his mind to wander.

"Are you all right?" Anakin questioned.

Luke opened his eyes to see Anakin's piercing blue stare gleaming back at him through the gloom. Silently, he wondered how much of his mounting exasperation he had allowed to inadvertently slip through his mental shields. Not trusting himself to speak, he simply nodded.

"Don't worry, Luke," his father tried to console him. "Even if we are discovered, I will not let any harm come to you." Anakin's stare seemed to intensify exponentially with his resolute determination. "I promise."

Luke looked away. He knew that the words were meant to be comforting, but he could not help but be troubled by how adamantly his father spoke them. The conviction behind the declaration was absolute, but the outcome of their detection by friend or foe would be impossible to predict.

His worry over how his father would react to circumstances beyond his control had long ago settled into a cold lump in his gut. Luke exhaled heavily as he pushed his sweat-drenched bangs out of his eyes. There was no use thinking about what might happen. It was best to just deal with the here and now.

Trying to focus on more positive thoughts, Luke acknowledged to himself that—if there was nothing else that could be taken from the time they were spending together—at least he had begun to manage some skill at reading his father's quickly changing emotional state. He had even discovered the best defense to use to defuse his father's volatile outbursts. His seemingly unending well of restrained patience and silent tolerance had certainly been put to the test this morning, but it had proven to be the best method to placate Anakin's ire. It was the same tactic he had often used to deflect his sister's wrath. It had worked flawlessly with her too—at least until recently.

An icy barb of remorse stabbed through Luke's heart as thoughts of Leia infiltrated his mind. Memories of her pained expression and the depth of her anguish the last time they were together flooded his memory. Until her unexpected blowup, he would never have believed that she could have blamed him so deeply for her sorrows. Although he had not had the time to meditate fully on the accusations that fueled her condemnation and anger, he had accepted that her overwhelming grief had flavored her words.

Thoughts of his own guilt swelled within him as well. He had gone specifically against her wishes, selfishly taking it upon himself to go off on a damned fool idealistic crusade to save the galaxy. She would be so angry with him if she knew what he had done. Even if he was successful, she probably would never forgive him when he returned. She might just be the one to swear out the warrant for his arrest. But he had long decided that he had no other choice left to him than this—

"You're worried about more than detection, aren't you?" Anakin's voice washed over him again.

Looking up, he realized that his father had yet to start moving. The younger Jedi continued to watch him with concerned eyes.

"You're thinking about someone close to you who would be upset by your decision to come here," his father observed.

"There are many who would be upset by my coming here," Luke replied with a frown.

"Yes, but there is only one that concerns you at the moment," Anakin smirked. "And even now, I can feel you are anxious with the thoughts of returning to face their anger."

Luke shrugged. "She can wield words better than I can my lightsaber."

"Believe me, I know how that feels." Anakin brushed his sleeve across his eyes to wipe away his growing perspiration. "But sometimes we must make choices to protect the ones we love in ways that they cannot understand. We can only hope that they will learn to accept them—and find it in their heart to forgive us."

Luke furrowed his brow as he thought over his father's words. He had not anticipated that such a profound statement would originate from the rash young man ahead of him. His father was far more complicated than he had ever imagined him to be.

"Yes," Luke finally responded, "but we have to be able to live with ourselves as well."

Anakin's eyes dropped guiltily, and he turned away. "Come on," he mumbled. "We have little time left."

Appearing suspiciously contrite, Anakin began to move forward again. Without another word, Luke gritted his teeth and continued to slither through the ventilation ducts, following his father's lead. Luke was puzzled over the young man's reaction to their exchange of words. It gave him one more mystery to solve. He vowed silently to himself to be more attentive to _all_ of his father's comments in the future. It could just provide him with the additional clues he needed to discover what had destroyed the man.

Mindful of his surroundings this time, Luke avoided plowing once more into his father as the younger man paused and began to pry loose an air-intake grate. The rush of cool air and introduction of another light source clearly indicated his father's success.

Anakin twisted his body around to dangle his legs down into the opening of the air shaft. He turned to look at his son. "Wait here for a moment."

"Why?" Luke began to protest.

The young Jedi held up a finger. "I said—wait." Anakin's tone brokered no room for argument. Amid the flourish of his dark brown cape, he disappeared through the opening, leaving Luke alone in the air shaft.

With a frown, Luke rolled onto his back and exhaled heavily as he scrubbed his hands over his face. He immediately regretted the action as he realized that he had no doubt just grounded years of dust and grime into his skin. That—and whatever else had resided in the ventilation system that their travels had displaced.

After his father's efforts to virtually smother him all morning, Luke wasn't quite sure why Anakin had suddenly left him here alone. And at this particular moment, he wasn't too sure he cared. Only one thing was clear to him: He was definitely not having one of his better days.

Moreover, despite his initial enthusiasm at his father's decision to bring him to the Temple, he could not ignore the growing unease he felt the closer they came to reaching their destination. What disturbed him most was that the niggling warning did not feel as if it concerned him specifically.

There was more to their situation than Luke was aware of. It no doubt had something to do with the impending Council meeting his father kept mentioning. It was becoming blatantly obvious to him that the deeper they delved through the hidden passages, the more heightened his father's emotions had grown. Anakin was anticipating—no, expecting—something to happen. Luke, on the other hand, was only feeling mounting concern tinged with a prickling of dread.

As he waited in the dark metal shaft, more memories of the past began seeping into his consciousness. Recollections of the chaotic times during his years with the Alliance seemed determined to encroach into his brain—no matter what he tried to do to suppress them. The knowledge he was gaining with this current situation was not helping to dampen the floodgates either.

Memories of all those frustrating years during the Rebellion when a myriad of well-laid plans had been so easily unraveled by the enemy continued to run through his mind. Alliance command had always believed that Vader's spies had infiltrated the highest levels of their ranks—although there had never been any solid proof of such espionage. Luke was coming to realize that the probable source for many, if not all, of their detections was not due to an inside source but due simply to the abilities of the commander put in charge of the hunt.

In just the short time he had spent with this father, it had become painfully clear to Luke that Anakin was not only an expert in eluding detection but also a great strategist when it came to directing stealth operations. Vader's seemingly uncanny ability to consistently thwart the Alliance's plans and missions had probably been a result of the vast knowledge he had gained through his own experiences. He had simply known the right places to look.

Although Luke realized that it was not the best time to dwell upon these particular memories, he was having little success avoiding them. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing to will his mind to settle. Of course, maybe it would just be a better idea to focus on strengthening his mental shields…

"Luke."

His father's voice started him out of his musings. He bit down on his lip to prevent the vulgar curse that threatened to escape him. He was beyond annoyed at himself that he could not cut through the fog of his father's Force manipulations to even detect the presence of another. Grimacing, he shimmied forward to peer down the opening at the younger man standing below and holding a suspicious brown bundle tucked under an arm.

"The way is clear," Anakin's voice was still hushed. "You can come down now."

Taking only a moment to note that the opening to the air shaft had been located in an empty stairwell, Luke followed his father's order and dropped down. A sharp stab of pain radiated up his legs as his ill-fitting boots hit the metal landing. He winced, but said nothing.

Without hesitation, Anakin tossed the large wad of brown fabric into his son's chest. Luke gasped in surprise. Only instinct caused him to reach out and grab the bundle before the heavy contents wrapped within could clatter to the metallic floor.

"At least your reflexes appear to be improving," Anakin smirked as he focused his attention on reattaching the grate to the front of the air shaft. Once that task had been accomplished, he turned and stepped out of the stairwell. Luke followed him as he strode quickly down the hall.

Luke could not help but feel an odd sense of unease as he traveled through the vacant hallway. He already had a pretty good idea as to where they were headed. And other than the fact that there was no odor of scorched wood or stale smoke—it felt strangely as if he had stepped back into his orb-induced vision. Trying to distract himself from his mounting anxieties, he focused his eyes on his father's back.

Anakin stopped midway down the hall and deftly punched a code into an access pad. The adjacent door panel slid aside, and the young Knight stepped back from the opening.

"All too easy," Anakin boasted. He grinned arrogantly as he extended his arm for Luke to enter.

Luke's gut wrenched further at his father's statement. There had been so few encounters between the two of them in Luke's past that he had apparently filed away into his subconscious every word that he had ever heard his father utter. This comment was no exception. At least there was no hiss of steam or spray of carbonite to accompany it—although the risk to his safety by his very presence in this time and place was still just as prevalent.

Stepping into the cluttered apartment, Luke once again faltered. The cell had been dark when he had seen it in his vision, and when he had come to it during his late-night excursion, he had assumed the chaos of the fire had caused the disarray and mess that had been left behind. Obviously he was wrong.

"How can you live like this?" his comment escaped his lips before he could think better of it. The room was ladened with containers of circuit boards and mechanical parts and crammed with tables covered with tools and partially assembled droids. Nearly every wall was covered with hand-drawn schematics and design blueprints.

"You are letting your eyes deceive you again," Anakin chided. "What appears to be disarray is actually a well-planned deception." He slipped around his son and headed toward the kitchenette."In other words—the mess you see is here for a purpose."

"A purpose?" Luke questioned as he gingerly began making his way through one of the narrow pathway leading to a side worktable. "I don't understand."

"When I first arrived at the Temple, I had a rather hard time adjusting to my new life," Anakin explained calmly. "Obi-Wan knew that I was good at fixing things, so he allowed me to start a few projects for the Temple in my spare time—with the stipulation that I kept everything in my own room."

Luke listened absently to his father's justification for the apparent chaos as he made a closer examination of a partially put-together utility droid. He suddenly realized that his own hand seemed to be itching to pick up the small hydro-spanner lying on the table next to it so he could continue with its assembly.

"The more jobs I completed," Anakin continued, "the more requests I received. Pretty soon, there were too many projects and supplies to keep in my room. By the time our apartment started looking more like a workshop; Obi Wan realized that it was too late to put a halt to it. He couldn't just command me to stop since most of the requests for work to be done were coming from the Council members themselves. Obi-Wan couldn't live with the mess either. So he compromised and requested that we each move to this floor and be given single rooms. His room is just at the end of the hall.

"I was the only Padawan to ever have been allowed a private residence," Anakin announced proudly. "I just needed to keep up with appearances, to make sure that the order was not rescinded. Since the war, I have barely seen this room, much less had the time to clean it. Besides, there are other places I would rather spend what time I am allowed," he finished with a wicked smile.

Luke barely heard the end of Anakin's explanation. He was mesmerized by several large pieces of flimsy tacked to the wall behind the worktable where he stood. The recognizable schematics of an astromech droid had caught his eye, and he had not been able to resist a better look at them. The hand-drawn sketches appeared to be a series of modifications—one of which that would create a secret compartment just below the top of the droid's dome. The designed space would be just large enough to hold a lightsaber hilt. There was also an accompanying complex ejection system.

Artoo had a unique modification made to him that was very similar to what was displayed. He remembered finding it while cleaning the sand from the little droid's sensors on Tatooine. He had even employed the compartment during their rescue of Han from Jabba's clutches.

He wondered…

"Here!"

Luke jumped out of his musing at the sound of his father's voice next to his ear. He spun his head to note the young man was standing at his side. Anakin handed him two silver packets as he turned and made his way to the back of the cluttered room. "That should hold you over until after the Council meeting."

Luke looked down at the packets that he now held in his hand and grimaced. He hadn't been subjected to field rations for years. He couldn't help but scowl.

"Don't worry," Anakin chuckled as he stopped and glanced back at his son from the doorway to the back room. "We'll get some real food after the meeting. Besides, we will have something to celebrate."

"Celebrate?" Luke's brows furrowed deeper in confusion, his eyes still focused on the rations. "Celebrate what?" he asked again as he looked up. He received no answer from the now-empty room.

Luke huffed. His father certainly seemed to be always on the move. He carefully wound his way around the clutter and headed toward what he knew to be the sleeping cell. As he entered, he noted that the austere decor of the room was far more befitting of a disciplined Jedi of the old Order—at least; it was much like what Luke had expected to see. Luke glanced around the room and found Anakin bending down in front of the open bottom drawer of the rather large dresser set against the wall. The young Knight had already divested himself of his utility belt, gauntlet, and multiple layers of tunics. Oblivious to Luke's entry, Anakin was currently preoccupied with stashing Padmé's hair clip in a small hand-carved box.

Luke couldn't help but take note of his father's half-naked form. Even in his youth, Luke had never had his father's physique. The corded muscles of Anakin's shoulders and chest were rather intimidating. He clamped his jaw tightly before his face belied his envious reaction any further.

He could also not help but notice the golden metal prosthetic that made up the lower half of Anakin's right arm. Luke had pretty well expected to see something like that ever since he had noticed that Anakin had only worn one gauntlet, but it was still somewhat disconcerting to see the prosthetic exposed. However, the false limb was apparently of no concern to his father.

As Anakin stretched forward to replace the contraband items in the back of the drawer, Luke's focus was drawn to something he had not expected to see. An interlacing pattern of faded scars crisscrossed the younger man's tanned back. Luke's brows furrowed as his mind flashed through the possible causes for such marks. It was obvious that they were not recently received. He also realized that these injuries had not been treated properly when they had been acquired—at least not with any form of bacta—as otherwise the scars would not be visible now.

What had happened to him? He felt the urge to make an array of queries, but he held his tongue. Luke's naïveté on the matter could only raise even more questions between he and his father—questions that would be far too difficult to answer. Luke relied on his own instincts instead. They were clearly telling him that whatever had happened to his father had occurred long before to his coming to the Temple, but that would have meant he would have been no more than nine years old. Who would possibly have hurt a child that severely?

Anakin rose smoothly and started toward the fresher. "While I grab a shower, you can look through the closet for something to wear." The younger man tipped his head in invitation. "You should find something in there that will fit you. It's been years since I've had the spare time to go through it and return anything to stores."

Luke had no time to reply before the fresher door closed with a click. He turned back to the closet with an inquisitive glare to see less than a dozen Jedi uniforms hanging neatly within. Most of them were made up of dark-colored material similar to the uniform Anakin currently wore. But he noticed two outfits were noticeably smaller and of lighter-colored natural tones. He wondered for a moment how much time it would have taken to go through the limited inventory and send the outgrown items back to the Temple supply repository. With a shrug, he pushed away the thought.

Before making his way to the closet, Luke dropped the heavy cloth bundle that he still carried onto the single-sized cot. Unfolding the dark brown fabric, he bit back a smile as he realized that it was actually a full length, hooded cloak. As he pulled the garment up, a pair of reddish brown leather boots tumbled out. He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. Maybe the day wasn't going to be quite as bad as he had thought—especially if the boots fit.

***

As Anakin finished drying himself, he proceeded to tie the damp bath towel around his hips. He had never had a propensity for taking long showers. In fact, when he had first arrived at the Temple, it had been a hard-fought battle for Obi-Wan to get him to regularly take showers at all. His Master had never understood why he had such an adverse reaction to allowing water to simply run down the drain. Obi-Wan wouldn't listen to him—or try to understand just how precious even the smallest amount of water could be to a desert dweller like himself.

Dismissing the memories of countless old arguments, Anakin reached over for his shaving kit and quickly began lathering his face in preparation. He had wanted to be standing in the Council's antechamber by now. If he had known how long it would take to get Luke up here to his cell, he would have started their trip at least a half an hour earlier. His little solo excursion hadn't helped with the time spent either, but it had been necessary. He was sure that Obi-Wan wouldn't mind donating his extra boots and cloak to his son. Anakin doubted that his former Master would even notice that they were missing from his closet—at least, not right away. Besides, it was for a good cause.

There was still a small part of him that couldn't quite accept that Luke was really his son—especially when considering the less than stellar qualities Luke had displayed since their meeting. Shouldn't a child of his and Padmé's have inherited at least some small quantity of poise and coordination? Anakin shook his head. His son was proving to be anything but subtle. When Luke confessed his reduced Force sensitivity, Anakin had thought that admission had explained his son's inability to avoid his initial detection as well as his lack-luster performance in sneaking into Padmé's apartment. But after his banging around though the ventilation ducts this morning....

Anakin had to concentrate for a moment on dispelling his mounting frustration. Luke would probably just say that it was due to the intrusive tactics that he had used to conceal his Force presence. But right now, Anakin felt completely justified in creating and maintaining that tight protective shield. Their trek through the vents had taken twice as long as normal just because he had to take alternate routes to avoid the probes sent in their direction by suspicious Jedi. If he had not been hiding his son...they would have been discovered for sure.

But Luke's discomfort at being constantly shielded wouldn't last much longer, he reasoned with himself. Once the Council meeting was over, he could get him out of here for at least the rest of the day. Then he would have the time to figure out just what to do with his son. He could only hope that the meeting wouldn't take too long. But then again, how could it? The Chancellor's orders were nothing if not clear.

Anakin paused for a moment as his thoughts returned to his son. A proud smile broke over his face. His son had claimed that he was a Jedi Master. He couldn't imagine how, but... Anakin bit down on his bottom lip and dropped his head for a moment. He had not been able to put Luke's declaration out of his mind since he had heard him make it. It had served to ignite another thought that had been fueling his own anticipation all morning. Anakin raised his chin and appraised his reflection in the mirror. In just a very short while, there would officially be two Jedi Masters in the family. His smile broadened. He already knew where he would take his son to celebrate. His mouth began to water with anticipation.

Anakin tried to dampen his exuberant smile so he could finish running his razor over his cheeks. He pressed himself to focus on how he thought the impending meeting would go. Masters Kolar, Mundi, and Allie would undoubtedly cling to their same old argument that he was not old enough to be a Master. Even though he barely knew Master Allie, she was still strongly connected to her late cousin, Master Gallia, and he knew that she had inherited her predecessor's prejudices against him. Those three Masters had been actively attempting to hold him back for years—even more than Obi-Wan had. If it wasn't for the Jedi's war-depleting ranks, he was sure that they would have fought more fervently against his Knighting.

Then there was Master Windu. He would scowl through the entire meeting and say—for the umpteenth time—that he was not to be trusted. Anakin shook his head derisively. It wasn't that he had ever given the Korun Master any actual cause for his accusations. Sure, he had broken the Code by marrying Padmé—and he had snuck out of the Temple every chance he got to see her... But those indiscretions were different—they didn't count, his private activities had never interfered with his duties as a Jedi. The mandate against personal attachments was a stupid rule anyways. Even Luke had told him_ that_ part of the Code had changed in the future.

Returning his focus to the impending meeting, he continued to imagine the reactions of the rest of the Council members. Master Ti would probably just sit back in her chair and nod her head approvingly. Anakin could not suppress a smile as he thought of the Togruta Master. She had always seemed to care for him more than the rest and had often come to his defense when he had gotten into trouble as a youngling—even when he hadn't quite deserved her support.

He wasn't sure how Masters Koon, Fisto, and Tiin would react. He had served with each of them on several assignments throughout the war. He knew that they were well aware of his abilities, but they always seemed to follow the majority sway of the Council and rarely spoke up regarding their own beliefs. Their opinions, as well as the ultimate decision of the Council, would rest with Master Yoda.

He had a pretty good idea as to what to expect from Yoda as well. Anakin was sure that the ancient Grand Master would say that the Dark Side of the Force was clouding everything. There wasn't a day that went by lately when he didn't. Yoda may even claim that the Dark Side was surrounding him. Anakin shifted uncomfortably as he gazed at his reflection in the mirror. That proclamation wouldn't be news to him. He had felt a cold blanket of dread seeming to cling around him of late. He was sure it was more than just his battle fatigue and growing frustrations at the lack of progress with ending this damned war. The Dark Side was calling to him—especially after they had rescued the Chancellor. He knew it had been wrong to give into his hate and kill Count Dooku in cold blood, but he hadn't been able to help himself. He also knew that he needed to tell someone of his transgression—just as he still needed to confess about his massacre of the Tusken village over three years ago to someone other than his wife and the Chancellor. He knew in his heart that the Jedi needed to know about how he had succumbed to such dark emotions. But he had just never seemed to find the right time to do so. Anakin dropped his head in shame. He just needed to go to Obi-Wan and tell him…everything.

_Obi-Wan! _He chuckled to himself. He could imagine his former Master's reaction to the Chancellor's orders as clear as day. Obi-Wan would remain quiet as the proclamation appointing Anakin to the Jedi Council as the Chancellor's official representative was read. Then he would slowly lean back in his chair and stroke that confounded beard of his in quiet contemplation. He would say nothing to defend or promote his former Padawan, allowing the other Masters to have their go at him. Then, sometime after the meeting, Obi-Wan would come to him and tell him how proud he was of him. He would explain that the reason he didn't intervene and express his support before was that it was not the Jedi way. Anakin scoffed. _Right. And I'm supposed to confess my sins to _him_?_ He shook his head. _Not in this lifetime._

Realizing that he had finished shaving, Anakin ran his flesh hand over his smooth cheeks to wipe away the remaining residue of the lather. Stashing away his razor, he rummaged through the small kit in search of his comb. His brows furrowed when he realized that it was missing—again. Obi-Wan always needled him that the only thing he lost more often than his lightsaber was his comb... He hated that jibe...especially since it was true.

Accepting the inevitable, Anakin ran his fingers through his drying hair to settle it down in some reasonable fashion. He then tucked away his shaving kit and wiped down the counter with the hand towel before refolding it and placing it on the rack. He was sure that Luke was quite aware of his father's general propensity for neatness. Just like that of his mother. No doubt that was what had fueled his son's strong reaction to the condition of the main room of the apartment. He hoped Luke had understood his reasons for it.

If Obi-Wan were ever to find out how much living in this mess actually bothered him...Well, he would never live that one down, either...

Anakin turned to make his way out of the fresher and froze. A derisive smile crossed his lips as he turned back and leaned down to grab a small packet from under the sink cabinet. His smile broadened as he laid the unopened kit on the counter and left the room.

As he stepped into the bedroom, he stopped once more. Anakin's eyes filled with mild consternation as he viewed the barefoot form of his son relaxing on his cot. At least, Anakin acknowledged, Luke had been considerate enough to pull off the heavy, grease-ladened poncho he had been wearing before doing so. In fact, his son was stripped down to a sleeveless undershirt and heavily wrinkled pants... Both of which were still several sizes too large for him.

Anakin could not help but grin pridefully as he recognized his son's rapt attention on an article in the most recent issue of the _Popular Space Mechanics_ periodical that he held in his hands. He was only slightly confused as to how Luke would have known where to find the issue since he had safely secured it under his bed.

"Enjoying yourself?" Anakin asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, well, I knew where you kept your stash," Luke acknowledged with a wry smile. He set down the magazine and swung his legs off the bed as he watched his father intently.

Anakin shook his head as he walked to the closet. He pulled a fresh dark uniform off a hanger and returned to side of the room next to the dresser. Pulling a pair of leggings and an under tunic from the drawers, he laid everything out on the dresser and proceeded to dress.

"Fresher's free," Anakin announced. "I left a field toiletry kit on the counter in case you want to get rid of that 'stuff' on your face." He waved his fingers dismissively in the general direction of his own chin.

"The beard really bothers you, doesn't it?" Luke queried as he narrowed his eyes.

"Of course not," Anakin sneered glibly. "Though I'm sure you would look much better without it." He glanced over his shoulder toward his son. "Obi-Wan talked you into growing that, didn't he?" he asked suspiciously as he climbed into a pair of dark leather pants.

"What makes you think that I didn't just follow your example?" Luke asked, egging his father's obvious distress a bit further.

"Sith, no!" Anakin visibly paled. The shocking possibility nearly caused him to stumble off balance.

"Don't worry," Luke raised his hand to calm his father. "I never saw you with a beard."

"Thank the Force," Anakin shook his head as he tugged away his towel and fastened the top of his pants. "I thought for a moment I had gone completely daft."

Anakin reached for an under tunic when his body stiffened in alertness and his expression hardened in consternation. His head swiveled to the side to face the main room of the apartment just as the anticipated rapping began to be heard from the front door. He turned disconcerted eyes back to his son.

***

Luke winced as he felt his father's protective presence tighten around him. In his own attempt to fight the disorienting effects of his father's interference, he barely noted that the rapping at the door had become louder and more insistent. He thought he heard someone call out his father's name, but he couldn't be sure.

"_E chu ta_, what now?" Anakin spat as he made for the main room. He hesitated a moment at the bedroom doorway, and then he turned and pointed a finger at Luke. "Say nothing, and keep hidden." He then whirled and left.

Luke pulled himself up and staggered his way to the doorway. He needed to hang onto the cot as he did in an attempt to keep his balance due to the overpowering effects of his father's ministrations. Whoever was standing outside the apartment had completely unsettled his father. Anakin hadn't looked this flustered since Padmé had walked in on their early morning conversation. Luke braced himself against the wall, just out of view from the main room. He would comply with the orders to keep hidden, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't also try to find out who was so insistently knocking at the door.

***

Anakin barely made it a dozen steps before the front door was Force-pushed aside and Obi-Wan entered through it. His one-time Master walked to the center of the room before stopping and glancing around at his surroundings. Anakin halted as well as he evaluated the older man's appearance.

To look upon Obi-Wan Kenobi standing in the midst of such clutter, most people would only see the calm facade of a controlled Jedi Master. But the barely discernible appearance of the raised and slightly throbbing vein at Obi-Wan's temple was not lost on his former Padawan. Obi-Wan was angry. In fact, Anakin acknowledged, if he was reading the slight blush to the man's cheeks correctly, Obi-Wan was absolutely livid.

Anakin swallowed audibly as he glanced over his shoulder to the open doorway to the bedroom. He protectively strengthened the shields around his son once more. Turning back to the stoic visage of the Jedi Master, he assumed his long practiced role as the rebellious subordinate. Anakin straightened himself to full height and raised his chin defiantly in preparation for the impending castigation. He could only hope that, due to the fact that the Council meeting would begin soon, the inevitable lecture would be short. He already knew from all the signs of Obi-Wan's appearance that it wouldn't be pleasant.


	20. Chapter 20 Tempest In The Temple

_A/N #1: I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy._

_A/N #2: This story would not be what it is without the help of my very competent beta reader, "Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu." Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated._

_A/N #3: Season's Greetings, everyone! I hope that this update will find everyone who reads it both well and happy. Again, I apologize for the delay. This chapter simply did not want to cooperate. It has gone through many, many rewrites and revisions (just as my beta), and I have finally managed to beat it into submission and feel comfortable in sharing it with all of you. Enjoy! _

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**Chapter 20 – Tempest In The Temple**

Obi-Wan was angry. Knowing his one-time Master as well as he did, Anakin could clearly interpret the signs. Although Obi-Wan remained practically motionless as he scanned the disheveled apartment with a critical eye, the barely-perceptible throbbing vein at his temple and the light blush of his cheeks were undeniable indicators of the usually-calm Jedi's aggravated state. Watching him for a moment, Anakin quickly amended his assessment. Obi-Wan wasn't just angry—he was absolutely livid.

Anakin bit down on his lower lip and raised an eyebrow as he silently waited for the older man to speak. He was completely baffled as to what he could have possibly done this time to cause Obi-Wan's ire. His Master's irritation was far too great to be merely based on a missing spare cloak and pair of boots. Besides, he doubted that Obi-Wan had even had a chance to notice that the borrowed items were gone.

As the Jedi Master continued his critical survey of the surrounding clutter, Anakin swallowed down his growing trepidation and glanced over his shoulder to the open doorway of his bedroom. He strengthened his shields protectively around his son once more. He could practically feel Luke's pain-filled wince in response. He empathized—somewhat—but that didn't stop him from his self-appointed task. He would keep his son safe—no matter what the cost.

When Obi-Wan finally finished his perusal of the room, he turned stormy blue-gray eyes upon the younger man. Anakin shifted his weight uneasily between his feet. He instantly felt all of nine years old as he fell under the scrutiny of his former Master's penetrating glare.

Feeling compelled to do something, Anakin opted to assume his well-practiced role of rebellious subordinate. He straightened himself to full height and raised his chin defiantly. He could clearly sense that this situation would soon be turning into another verbal reprimand. He could only hope that his Master's impending lecture would be brief due to the short period of time before the Council meeting was scheduled to start. He already knew from Obi-Wan's bearing that it wouldn't be pleasant.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan greeted stonily.

"Master," Anakin icily replied as he nodded his head slightly.

"Why didn't you answer your door?" By the tone of his voice, it was clear that Obi-Wan was far from simply curious.

"You didn't give me a chance, Master," Anakin answered warily. "I was in the fresher."

Obi-Wan remained silent as he slowly folded his arms across his chest and appraised the younger man's tousled damp hair and bare-chest. "I see," he finally acknowledged.

_Why didn't he just come straight to the point? _Anakin closed his eyes and exhaled slowly to dispel his mounting frustration. He had never met another man—no, make that sentient—who even came close to Obi-Wan's unequaled ability to painfully prolong any situation far beyond that which was necessary. What was worse, his former Master knew that this practice irritated him to no end. In fact, Anakin was sure that was why he was employing it now. Unable to bear Obi-Wan's excruciating tactics any longer, Anakin decided to take the initiative.

"What are you doing here, Master?" he groused impatiently.

"I could ask the same thing of you, Anakin," Obi-Wan answered as he brought up a hand and stroked his beard.

"Well," Anakin feigned a sarcastic grin. "I do live here." He could practically feel the walls of Obi-Wan's intended verbal trap tightening around him. He knew he would soon come to regret where this conversation was headed.

"Really?" Obi-Wan retorted tersely. "I'm surprised that you still consider this glorified maintenance shop your home."

"You know that this clutter is not my fault, Master," Anakin huffed in annoyance. "I can't be expected to finish these projects if I am away at war."

"The war did not keep you away from your apartment last night, Anakin," the Jedi Master contended.

_Kriff! _Anakin's mouth went instantly dry,and his gut plummeted to the floor. Anakin could feel his heart rate quicken as he realized that Obi-Wan had somehow discovered his absence from the Temple last night. A detached part of his brain was still coherent enough to muse with surprise that it had taken so little time for his former Master to disclose this little revelation.

_Well, fine! _As always, Anakin was faced with two options. He could either admit his most recent transgression and explain his whereabouts—or deal with the issue as he usually did. Wasting no more time, he went on the offensive.

"Don't tell me that you have nothing better to do with your spare time than to spend it checking up on me?" he accused as he narrowed his eyes.

"It appears that someone still needs to do so," Obi-Wan returned.

"I am not your Padawan anymore, Obi-Wan," Anakin swore. "I am free to live my life as I please."

"You are still a Jedi, Anakin," Obi-Wan admonished, his voice rising in volume. "More importantly, you are a Jedi Knight. You may have been afforded additional privileges when the Council granted you that rank, but there were also certain standards of personal conduct that you were expected to follow in return."

"I don't need another one of your lectures, Master. Besides, I've heard this all before."

"Yes, you have," the older man acknowledged. "But as is often the case, you have apparently chosen not to listen." Although his voice was still relatively calm, Obi-Wan's face flushing a deeper shade of pink.

"The Jedi do not own me," Anakin exclaimed loudly. "No one does." He felt trapped. His body wanted to move—to pace. But with the condition of the room, that was next to impossible.

"You're right, Anakin. You are no longer a slave. Qui-Gon saw to that."

Anakin paled. "Why must you always bring that up?" he hissed, glancing over his shoulder once more. There was no way that Luke had missed Obi-Wan's declaration.

"Because it is the truth," his old Master responded, not noticing his former Padawan's shaken demeanor. "No matter how unsavory your former life, dismissing it will do you no good."

Anakin ground his teeth and shifted his weight between his feet. Clamping his eyes shut, he raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. _Why can't Obi-Wan just stop talking about this? _

"When Qui-Gon made that wager to gain you your freedom, he had faith that you would succeed in your task," Obi-Wan pointed out, undaunted. "He gave you your life back, Anakin. It was your choice to leave with him and become a Jedi. You owe it to his memory to—"

"Don't you think I know that!" he snarled. "I don't need you to constantly remind me—"

"Qui-Gon spent his final breath requesting that I train you. I gave him my word that I would," Obi-Wan cut him off. His agitation was finally infiltrating the tone of his voice. "You know very well that I nearly had to defy the entire Council just to do it."

"Of course I know that," Anakin snapped. "How could I possibly ever forget when you are constantly throwing it in my face?"

Obi-Wan ignored the comment. "I have devoted over ten years of my life to raising you, young man. I have trained you since you were a small boy and have taught you everything I know. I had firmly believed that you would eventually become a far greater Jedi than I could ever hope to be, but apparently somewhere along the way I have failed you."

Anakin balked at his Master's stunning admission. "What do you mean?"

"I was evidently unsuccessful in my efforts to instill within you a proper sense of responsibility for your actions."

"I _am_ responsible!" he fumed.

"You are certainly not showing it," Obi-Wan reprimanded. "Where were you last night?"

"Why do I have to I tell you?!" Anakin roared.

The Jedi Master closed his eyes and turned his head aside for a moment to regain his composure. He unfolded his arms and brought his hands to rest on the sides of his waist.

"I would hope that the years I spent as your long-suffering Master would encourage you to afford me the consideration of a straight answer," Obi-Wan said in a low, controlled voice. "But if our association is not reason enough, then you would do well to remember that I am a member of the Jedi Council. If you prefer, you can consider this a formal request from one of your superiors."

Anakin reeled back. He hadn't expected Obi-Wan to pull rank on him like this. Whatever had ticked him off this time was apparently far more serious than a few pieces of missing laundry.

"All right, fine!" he conceded. "I needed to clear my head. I—I took a walk."

"All night?" Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. It was apparent by his dubious expression that prior experience had convinced him that there was more to this story.

"I had a lot on my mind," the younger man shrugged ruefully.

The older man jeered, "Oh, I can only imagine."

"I doubt that," Anakin shot back sharply. "If you were so damned concerned about my whereabouts, why didn't you just call my comlink?"

"I tried, Anakin," Obi-Wan returned through gritted teeth, "as did the other members of the Council—several times, in fact. Funny thing about comlinks: they work amazingly well, but only if they are turned on."

"Oh…" Anakin blinked in confusion. His mind raced as he furrowed his brows and looked away. He remembered now. He had shut off his comlink when he went in search of the troubling vibration he had felt in the Force… The source of which had ended up being his son. After stumbling onto Luke, everything had just got…complicated.

"I…uh… must have forgotten," he mumbled.

"Indeed," Obi-Wan concurred. "After all of your years of training, Anakin, I would have thought that you had at least learned something as simple as keeping your comlink turned on."

"I don't need your sarcasm," Anakin snapped. He recognized that his emotions were beginning to get the better of him, and he was hard-pressed to keep himself under control.

"And what is it that you _do_ need?" Obi-Wan questioned.

"I need you to stop treating me like a child. Just for once, I would appreciate it if you would respect me as the grown man that I am, Master. If the Chancellor can recognize my accomplishments and see me for whom I have become, why can't you?"

"Ah, yes, the Chancellor," Obi-Wan muttered. "He may be your very close friend, Anakin, but I am afraid that his meddling has put you into a very precarious position."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Anakin threw up his hands in outrage.

"May I remind you that although Chancellor Palpatine has managed to gain a controlling interest in our Order, he is not a Jedi. He simply does not understand our ways."

"He is only acting in the best interests of the Republic," Anakin defended.

"For star's sakes, Anakin, he is a _politician_." The Jedi Master rubbed a calloused hand over his face.

"I know you don't trust him, Master. But despite your prejudice, he is a good man. The Senate has pledged their faith in him to end this war, and he is following their mandate to do so. If you could just listen to someone else for a change—"

"This is a subject that will soon be discussed with the entire Council," the Jedi Master interrupted Anakin's rant with a warning tone. "There is no time to debate the matter here."

"Fine," Anakin snapped. "Maybe the rest of the Council will listen to me. It would be nice if someone did. Obviously _you_ don't want to—"

"I am listening to you now, Anakin," Obi-Wan dismissed the younger man's claim. "And I am still awaiting an explanation as to where you were last night."

The younger man groaned in exasperation as he threw his head back and rolled his eyes.

"You are truly a puzzle to me, Anakin," Obi-Wan lectured. "I simply cannot understand how you are able to exact such discipline on the forces you lead out in the field when you are determined on remaining so reckless yourself. Your mysterious wanderings last night simply exemplify your lack of judgment."

"My judgment remains intact, Master," Anakin growled. He hated hearing Obi-Wan's condescending tones.

"Yet you continue to avoid my query," Obi-Wan antagonized. "Your current behavior makes me seriously question your convictions."

"How can you even say such a thing?" Anakin balked. His Master's pestering was relentless. He could feel his innermost fears begin to coil within him. He knew that he could not withstand Obi-Wan's interrogation indefinitely. Defensively, he tried to bury his growing insecurity by lashing out.

"You don't trust me!"

"I trust you with my life," Obi-Wan countered. "There has never been a question of that. But what concerns at the moment is your continuous tendency to let your actions be swayed by your emotions—"

"My emotions are what make me who I am," Anakin railed. He straightened and glared down at his former Master. "Asking me to not react to them is like ordering me to stop breathing. I'm not like you. I'm not the perfect Jedi."

"Oh, I am far from perfect," Obi-Wan corrected. "And I have plenty of emotions, young one. I am experiencing several of them at this very moment. The difference is that I have worked very hard to train myself to control—"

"So now you're telling me that I am out of control?" he blurted.

"I believe that I have little need to do so. The evidence is beyond clear. Even now, you are broadcasting your feelings so loudly I can barely stand to be in the same room with you."

"Well, then maybe you should leave." Anakin raised his chin defiantly.

"I will not leave until I receive a proper answer to my question."

His mind was becoming so clouded with anger… He could feel the shield that he had placed around Luke begin to crumble. This confrontation needed to end soon. He had to get Obi-Wan out of here—even if it meant doing something rash. Unable to restrain himself, he could feel his frustration began to infiltrate his words.

"I already told you where I was!" Anakin shouted.

"I know you too well, Anakin," Obi-Wan pressed. "A simple walk would not have occupied your time for the entire night."

"Well, then maybe you should have just come out and discovered what I was doing for yourself."

"I did think about doing just that," the Jedi Master admitted. "But then I realized that chasing after you through the cantinas and bordellos of the lower levels would only lead me to experience even greater disappointment regarding your conduct. I chose instead to hold to the belief that the boy I raised still maintains a shred of decency in his personal endeavors. I had no desire to unveil the true depth of the depravity in which you now choose to wallow."

His Master's ugly accusation angered him further. He had never heard Obi-Wan make such wild claims about him before. Foregoing the concern of the close quarters, he began to pace.

"It sounds as if you have already decided what 'depths of depravity' you would uncover." He glared at the older man. He was beyond thinking rationally and was unwilling to apply reason to the situation.

"You have given me little cause to think otherwise."

Anakin gritted his teeth. He continued to stalk through the cluttered pathways of his main living space as he focused on his Master's charges. An uncomfortable darkness was growing within him. It seemed to beurging him to strike out—to make Obi-Wan pay for the insults to his character. The seductive impulse quickly overwhelmed his self-control. He could not hold back his tongue.

"You know, I think you should have come looking for me last night, Master," Anakin sneered, "it may have even done you some good."

"What are you talking about, Anakin?" Obi-Wan snapped.

"Submitting to one's carnal desires can prove to have rather…interesting benefits… A tempestuous night of booze and loose women could have gone a long way in making you—"

"Stop it, Anakin," Obi-Wan commanded. "Stop it right now!"

Anakin halted his steps and obediently quieted, although he continued to glare defiantly at the older man. If he had been in any rational condition to notice, he would have seen that the Jedi Master had paled markedly, his jaw dropping in appall during his former Padawan's tirade. Taking a moment to recover his composure, Obi-Wan furrowed his brows and folded his arms within his sleeves. A thick, uncomfortable silence continued to grow between the two men and seemed to choke the air out of the room.

Obi-Wan broke the silence with a heavy sigh. "Sometimes, Anakin, I believe you specifically wish to try my patience," he grumbled. He shook his head in exasperation. "Maybe it would have been better for all of us if Qui-Gon had just left you in that junk shop."

The sting of Obi-Wan's words cut through him like a vibroblade. The raging furnace of Anakin's fury turned instantly to ice and his mind came crashing back to its senses. Anakin's returning lucidity immediately reminded him that Luke was still in the other room. He closed his eyes and turned his head away—unable to face his Master's accusation or speculate about how his son was reacting to what he could not help but overhear.

It wasn't the first time his Master had made this brutal proclamation—far from it. But after more than thirteen years of repetition—and with his life seemingly spinning out of control of late—he was slowly beginning to acknowledge that maybe Obi-Wan was right. And that realization alone was enough to terrify him. After a long moment, the older man once again broke the silence.

"I apologize, Anakin. My comment was uncalled for." The Jedi Master brought a hand up to rub over his strained features. "It's just that sometimes…sometimes I swear that you will be the death of me."

"Master, please!" Anakin hissed. It was another one of Obi-Wan's pet phrases. He hated hearing this one the most. Every time he did, something cold and frightening coiled just a bit tighter around his heart.

"Forgive me, Anakin," Obi-Wan conceded as he dropped his hands and shook his head. "These are very difficult times. It appears that the Dark Side has influence over us all. Even with our awareness of it, we are still unable to prevent it from infiltrating our defenses and affecting our thoughts and words. Its presence is far more intense here at the Temple than it was before we left for the Outer Rim."

"Yes, I know," Anakin mumbled in agreement and focused his eyes on a scuff mark on the floor between his feet. "I have noticed that as well." He sighed deeply. "Hopefully, we can just find the remaining Sith Lord quickly and deal with him as we did Count Dooku."

"You mean as _you _dealt with him," Obi-Wan corrected. "Remember, Anakin, I was the one taking a nap on the floor at the time."

"Yes, Master," Anakin forced a slight grin, although he felt no humor from it. He knew this was his Master's way of making a peace offering. He appreciated the effort, but he also realized that this conversation was not yet over. "Why did you really come down here, Obi-Wan? I can sense that there is more to your visit than you have yet revealed."

"You are correct, Anakin," Obi-Wan admitted. "But there is no time for further discussion," he sighed resignedly. "Let's just say that I am here to caution you to maintain control over your emotions—as well as to retrieve you for the Council session."

"Ah, come on, Obi-Wan," Anakin smirked. "You're not even going to give me enough credit to think that I would be there on time?"

"On time?" The Jedi Master frowned and furrowed his brow. "You are far from on time, young one. You are nearly an hour late."

"Late?" he gasped.

"Yes. Thanks to your good friend the Chancellor's controversial decree, as well as a troubling disturbance in the Force felt by Master Yoda, the Council meeting was moved up."

"When?" the younger Knight asked. "Why wasn't I informed?"

"The decision was made early last evening," Obi-Wan answered evenly. "And you would have been informed, if you had remained at the Temple—or had at least kept your comlink switched on."

_No! This can't be happening. Not now! _Anakin felt compelled to pace again, but he forced himself to remain in one place as his thoughts spiraled through new torrents of dread. This was the last thing he needed. Even though the Chancellor's orders were clear, he couldn't afford to antagonize the Council in any way. Anakin's chest tightened as fears of the ramifications of his ill-fated actions raced through him. Feeling his mental shields fractionally slip, he struggled to clamp then down hard before Obi-Wan could detect Luke's presence. When he felt a pain-filled reaction from his son, he forced himself to ignore it.

"Forgive me, Master," Anakin said ruefully as he shook himself out of his panicked haze. He absently ran his fingers through his nearly dry hair. "I, ah…" He was at a loss. There was no point in explaining himself further.

Obi-Wan appeared perplexed as he carefully studied his former Padawan. He could clearly feel the young man's jumbled emotions radiate through their remaining training bond. Anakin's contrition was apparent. Finally, concern filled Obi-Wan's eyes and softened his features. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and looked toward the open door and the vacant hallway beyond the apartment.

"Finish getting ready, Anakin," Obi-Wan ordered mildly. "I will go back to the Council and see what I can do to try to diffuse the situation…again."

"Yes, Master," he nodded contritely. "Thank you."

"Oh, don't thank me too quickly, Anakin." Obi-Wan gave the young man a hard gaze. "Gauging the mood of the Council when I left them to retrieve you, I doubt you will be well received when you finally arrive."

"I understand, Master," he responded. "I'll be there as quickly as possible."

Anakin stoically watched as Obi-Wan nodded and then left the room. Although arguments were common between the two of them, they were always unsettling. That being said, Anakin was still silently berating himself for sounding so weak and childish throughout the encounter. He was also troubled that Luke had heard so many of the accusations that had been bandied about. A son should respect his father, not believe that he was an irrational, immature… deviant.

***

Obi-Wan fought valiantly to hold his thoughts at bay as he forced his feet to carry him down the familiar path of hallways to the nearest turbolift. As the doors closed and he felt the mild vibration of the pod rising through the spire, he finally loosened his control and allowed his mind to begin to reflect on the recently-ended confrontation. He bowed his head and rubbed his fingers over his temples. His meeting with Anakin had certainly not gone the way he had intended.

He had only wanted to warn Anakin of what he would soon be facing. After listening to nearly forty-five minutes of groundless suspicions and unsubstantiated assertions against the young man, he had realized that it would be irresponsible of him to allow Anakin to enter the Council meeting unprepared. Anakin may not have been his Padawan any longer, but he still considered him a friend—a brother. Taking the first opportunity he could, he managed to wheedle his way out of the Council meeting under the guise of retrieving him.

Knowing the young man as well as he did, Obi-Wan was already sorely aware that Anakin was not going to react well when he learned that the Council would be withholding the rank of Master from him. And Anakin also wouldn't understand what would seem to be Obi-Wan's apathy and lack of support for him.It pained him deeply that he was not permitted to tell Anakin how hard he had fought against the Council's decisions. He was sure that Anakin would feel that he had simply abandoned him.

Furthermore, Anakin would be outraged at the Council's plan to have him covertly gather intelligence on the Chancellor's activities. Obi-Wan couldn't even blame him. He knew how much honor and loyalty meant to the young man. Anakin was far too close to the Chancellor to understand or even acknowledge the Jedi's well-founded lack of trust in Palpatine. Anakin would only see this _unofficial request_ as an order to betray his long-time friend and mentor.

Obi-Wan raised his head as he took a deep, centering breath. Why hadn't he just kept his original focus and delivered his message instead of becoming so…distracted?

The last thing that either of them had needed was to engage in another argument. But as soon as he had turned the corner in the hall and felt Anakin's incredible mental shielding rebuff him with near-physical strength, he had become irritatingly suspicious. He could now clearly see that his annoyance with his fellow Council members had transferred to his former Padawan the instant that he had sensed the young man's apprehension about…something. With so much shared history between them, he simply could not ignore the incriminating signs of Anakin's apparent skullduggery.

The moment he had entered that apartment, it had become blatantly obvious that he had caught Anakin totally unaware. The young man's guilt had been written all over his face. He had doubted that whatever indiscretion his former Padawan had been attempting to hide was anything truly sinister. They hadn't been back on Coruscant long enough for him to have gotten himself into too much trouble.

His growing frustration had completely clouded his judgment and compelled him to initiate the confrontation. And—as was typical in such situations—Anakin had reacted rather badly. Of course, he had not handled the situation well, either.

_If Anakin would have just admitted to his misconduct... _But then again, that just wasn't Anakin Skywalker. And more importantly, Obi-Wan knew it. This wasn't the first time that he had left the young man regretting his actions...And knowing his former Padawan as well as he did, he doubted that it would be the last.

Obi-Wan had fervently hoped that their bickering would have lessened once Anakin had ascended to Knighthood. In fact, at first it had. They had worked well together and had quickly become an unstoppable team. But over the past year—especially the last few months— the pressures of this seemingly-unending war had mounted, and their arguing had markedly increased in ferocity once again. It was as if they were both turning into complete strangers, no longer able to recognize each other for what they were.

Maybe that was why he had been so completely taken aback by Anakin's response regarding his prior night's conduct. He had only made those accusations of outlandish behavior to goad Anakin into admitting the truth of his whereabouts. Oh, how he wished he could take back his words. He folded his arms within his sleeve as he mulled over this troubling revelation. Anakin had not denied his charges. In fact, he had seemingly asserted complicity with that type of immorality by inviting him to join in.

Obi-Wan lowered his head and tightened his arms across his chest self-consciously. He was still unwilling to wholly believe that the boy he had raised would ever sink so low as to actually engage in such debauchery. Besides, Anakin couldn't even hold his alcohol. Why would he ever choose to partake in such foolishness? Up to now, Obi-Wan had solely been concerned with Anakin's obvious attachment to Senator Amidala. He had apparently completely missed how far his former Padawan had fallen into could he have become so blind?

Feeling the turbolift shudder to a stop, Obi-Wan raised his head and unfolded his arms. He had not even had the opportunity to deliver his message...at least not clearly enough for Anakin to understand its meaning. But he doubted that after alerting Anakin to his tardiness the young man was in any condition whatsoever to listen to anything else he had to say.

He would try to talk to Anakin again after the meeting was over. He would need to tell him about the Council's clandestine directive anyway. But now, he had more pressing concerns which needed his attention. He wasn't quite sure how he would be able to hold his tongue and keep from standing up and defending the young man who was soon to arrive, but as a member of the Council, he would need to find a way.

Once more, he buried his personal feelings deep within him so that he could outwardly portray the impartial role of Council member that was expected of the doors swished aside, the Jedi Master cleared his thoughts and stepped out into the Council anteroom. He quickly moved through the massive carved doors to take his appropriate seat once more. Ignoring the hard glares from most of the other Masters in the room, he glanced over at Master Yoda.

"Anakin will be here shortly," he succinctly informed him. And then Obi-Wan settled back into his chair and prepared for the barrage of questions and comments that were about to be unleashed. This would undoubtedly turn into a very long and uncomfortable Council session.

***

Anakin took a deep shuddering breath to try and settle his frayed emotions. He turned to walk back into the bedroom to finish dressing. He moved directly to the dresser and to the rest of the uniform lying there—ignoring the other occupant of the room. He stiffened as in the dresser's mirror he saw a reflection of Luke standing against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. His son's appearance was far too reminiscent of the scrutiny that he had just endured from Obi-Wan.

"I'm sorry you had to hear all that," Anakin apologized as he kept his focus on his own actions.

Luke said nothing.

"Obi-Wan is always a little grumpy first thing in the morning." Anakin tried to shrug off the confrontation. "He was actually pretty calm, considering…"

"You were a slave?"

Anakin froze. He closed his eyes tightly as he swallowed down the bile that had immediately risen to his throat. After a weighty pause, he finally responded in barely more than a whisper, "It was a long time ago," and returned his gaze to the top of the dresser and quickly pulled his leather tabard over his shoulders.

"I'm sorry—"

Anakin whirled on his son, taking a threatening step toward him and pointing a shaky finger in his face. "I do not want nor need your pity," he spat. "I may have been a slave as a child, but I was always a person."

"I didn't mean to offend you." Luke instinctively took a step back. "I just…I never knew."

"And I would have preferred that you never found out," Anakin growled. Turning away, he took several deep breaths to calm himself. "When I left Tatooine, I promised my mother that I would someday return and free her and the rest of the slaves. She may no longer be here to see it happen, but I will keep my promise to her…no matter what I have to do to accomplish it."

Anakin quickly grabbed his utility belt and cinched it tight. He should have known Luke would say something to him about this. He had acutely felt his son's judgmental eyes upon him earlier as he scrutinized the faded evidence of the beatings he had endured under Gardulla's cruel ownership. He had tried to ignore it, hoping that Luke would do the same and keep his curiosity to himself. Although he rarely thought of the marks anymore, it was at times like these when he realized that they had branded more than his skin. His scars would forever burn his shame into his soul as well.

There were only a handful of people who knew of his past. Padmé was of course aware of his former life, but she had somehow managed to overlook his inadequacy. A slave and a queen... It was almost as preposterous a notion as a Senator and a Jedi. He would remain forever humbled by the depth of her compassion and by her willingness to accept his deficiencies. It caused him to love her all the more.

That Luke had not known of his inglorious past had been a blessing. But the truth was out now—any desire to keep his enslavement hidden was no longer relevant. It had been taken out of his hands.

Although Obi-Wan had not known that Luke was in the other room, it still angered him deeply that the man had shattered one more fragile perception. Anakin may never have had a father, but that had not meant that he hadn't ever thought about the kind of father he would have wanted. He had hoped to emulate that ideal for his son. And that image had not included starting out life as a slave…

By the time he pulled out of his dark reverie, he realized he was fully dressed. He grabbed his lightsaber and reattached it to his belt.

"You should be safe while I am gone. With the current level of deployment to the Outer Rim, most of the cells on this floor are vacant. I've long since reprogrammed the maintenance droids to exclude this address from their normal routines, so there should be nothing to disturb you. Just…keep the door locked and stay here until I get back."

Luke stood quietly and nodded.

Anakin moved to the doorway and stopped. His shoulders sagged noticeably as he dropped his head. He raised his arm and ran a gloved hand slowly along the edge of the opening. "Luke," he began hesitantly, "about what was said—regarding the lower levels..."

"It's not true," Luke broke in. "I know. It didn't feel right when Obi-Wan first mentioned it."

Anakin turned back to look at his son in surprise.

"I'm guessing that it is the cover story you use for the time you spend with my mother." Luke kept a steady focus on his father. "Besides," he tipped his head and shrugged, "I already know where you were last night."

Anakin dropped his gaze down at the floor. "I have never dissuaded any of Obi-Wan's speculations regarding my activities away from the Temple," he explained as his brows furrowed with consternation. "Up to now, I just hadn't realized that he had allowed his imagination to run so far afield." Anakin shook his head and looked intently upon his son. "Your mother is the only woman that exists for me. She has held my heart from the moment I first saw her. I'm still rather amazed that after all these years, Obi-Wan has yet to figure that out." He shrugged as a humorless smile quirked at the corners of his mouth. "But then again, he has apparently forgotten that even one glass of alcohol effectively knocks me on my ass."

His son smiled tentatively. "Maybe it's time for you to clear a few things up for him..."

Luke's naive assertion ended abruptly—no doubt due to the reproachful glare that had been Anakin's response. The wary apprehension reflected from his son's eyes made Anakin feel distinctly uncomfortable. He had observed that same reaction displayed on his son's features several times previously. At each occurance, Anakin had felt a painful twist of guilt in his gut. Why would son appear to fear him so? Clearing his throat, he buried his concern. There was no time to pursue it now. Instead, he focused on a response.

"Obi-Wan doesn't hear anything he doesn't want to. He especially doesn't listen to me. You heard that for yourself," Anakin averred darkly. "And besides, even if he did choose to listen, he would never understand. Better he think me an amoral deviant than to discover that I have broken the precious Jedi Code," he scoffed. He took another deep breath to settle himself. "If Obi-Wan ever learned the entire truth of Padmé's and my relationship, it would..." His word's choked off into an uncomfortable silence, and he turned away and shook his head. He remained in stoic contemplation for several heartbeats. His son seemed to be holding his breath, waiting for him to say something more.

"I have to go," Anakin finally stated dully. "The Force will be with you while I am gone. Be safe." Not waiting for a response, he moved out of the doorway.

***

Lord Sidious waved his hand dismissively and watched the small panel descend and hide his prized focusing crystals within the secret wall compartment. Releasing his hold of the ornate Nabooian tapestry, he watched as it fell back into place. He turned and walked to the large transparisteel panes that made up the back wall of his office. Carefully pulling down the hood of his cowl, he gazed out upon the galaxy that would soon be his. With practiced ease, the Sith Lord compelled his features to settle once more into the benevolent mask of the Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. At least he would not be forced to endure such rudimentary subterfuge for much longer. His plans were coalescing at last. He had just confirmed it.

It was dangerous for him to evoke such dark energies in a public setting. He rarely chose to take the risk in the Senate building itself. But he knew that those who would have been able to detect the proceedings were currently occupied with other pressing matters. He had made sure of that with his latest decree. No, he was perfectly safe at the moment. Besides, the results of his inquiry had been extremely enlightening.

After nearly an entire night of meditation, he had managed to assuage his concerns and dismiss the odd disturbances he had felt through the Force over the past few days as an insignificant anomaly. However, a new conundrum had arisen in its place. Since early this morning, he had been sensing his future apprentice's distinctive Force signature. The boy's presence had quickly grown so irritatingly bright that he could not even distinguish those who were in close proximity to him. The cause for this vexing behavior was completely puzzling. Sidious could not grasp the reasons why the boy would act so foolishly. That was why he had been inclined to employ the crystals. At this critical juncture, he could not afford to ignore the situation.

However, what he had discovered had been most pleasing. The boy was an emotional wreck—even without any tampering on his part. The prior evening's lack of projected night terrors had not jeopardized his overall plan in the least—far from it, in fact. The perceived volatility of erratic emotions that he could detect radiating from the young man had been immensely satisfying to sense. Although Sidious wasn't able to decipher the exact reason for the boy's current upheaval, it was still delightful to behold. It had given him the confidence to dismiss this unexpected development as just another encouraging sign of his impending victory.

The corners of his mouth crept ever so slightly into the wispy grin that he was unable to suppress. And to think, the esteemed Jedi Council would soon be the cause of even greater instability in the boy.

The Jedi were so pathetically predictable, he mused. Although the Council was bound to follow his mandate, they certainly would not accept his recommendation and bestow rank of Master on the boy. They might even surreptitiously order him to spy upon his childhood mentor. Now wouldn't that be marvelous? Palpatine closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as he relished the thought of watching the boy stew in the guilt of his perceived betrayal. The Chancellor's smile broadened. He had to admire his own abilities in plotting this current course of action. The Jedi Council was in effect doing his work for him in weakening the boy's resistance to the Dark Side. It was a far more effective strategy than anything that either Grievous or Tyranus had ever achieved on the battlefield.

Isolation would be the final key. That was the last step in his grand scheme to entrap the boy's loyalty. The morning's impending events would most certainly hammer a permanent wedge between the boy and the Jedi Council. With his orchestrated Separatist invasion of Kashyyyk, Sidious was sure that Master Yoda would soon leave to protect his precious Wookiee friends. Next on the agenda would be that infernal Kenobi. He had plans for him as well, and they would proceed shortly.

Once the Jedi had been dealt with, that would leave only one other. He was looking forward to dealing with that one—personally. He planned to make her demise as excruciatingly painful as possible. Of course, it would truly be delicious if he could devise a plot to have the boy dispose of her himself. His eyes narrowed at the thought. It would exemplify an act of ultimate obedience and would result in securing his new apprentice into bonds that could never be broken. Ah, yes, what a positively splendid idea. He would need to meditate further on how to achieve...

A buzz from his desk comm unit broke him out of his reverie.

"What is it?" he snarled at the interruption.

"Your Excellency," the voice of his secretary announced warily, "the members of the Loyalist Committee are here for their appointment with you."

Palpatine closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He took a moment to fully compose himself. "Well, then," he finally returned cordially. "By all means, send them in."

Supreme Chancellor Palpatine turned to move to his chair behind his massive desk just as the group of Senators and aides entered the plush office. He paid little heed to their number. There was only one Senator that merited his full attention. Wrapped in a mass of thick burgundy silks and surrounded by a heavy cloak that seemed excessively cumbersome on such a petite form, she diligently walked forward so as to not to belie her increasingly awkward state of unbalance. Palpatine could not keep his pleased smile from broadening.

"Why, Senator Amidala," he greeted warmly. "You appear to be absolutely glowing this morning."


	21. Chapter 21 Into The Rancor Pit

_A/N #1: I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy. _

_A/N #2: This story would not be what it is without the help of my very competent beta reader, "Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu." Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated._

_A/N #3: Yes, I know that it has been near shy of forever since I posted the last installment, and I am truly sorry. It seems that while my muse was taking an extended Christmas holiday, she accidentally wandered beyond the Dune Sea of Indecision and into the treacherous Procrastination Wastelands. Becoming hopelessly lost, she accidentally __stumbled and fell into the Pit of Writer's Block. Thankfully, she did have her comlink with her. After taking an exorbitant amount of time to figure out how to make the blasted thing work, she did manage to call for help and was finally rescued by the Knights of Inspiration. I am happy to report that she is recovering nicely from her harrowing ordeal, although she remains in an undisclosed location (I believe she is hanging out with the Knights). Fear not. She has promised to be back hard at work in the near future. At least she has managed to take the time to send a few postcards. That has enabled me to finally complete this chapter and make significant progress on the next few. I hope that you will not be disappointed... _

* * *

**Chapter 21** **– Into the Rancor Pit:**

Luke dropped his head and let the constant stream of hot water continue to pelt the tense muscles of his shoulders and back. Long showers had always helped him to organize his thoughts, but he knew he was pushing the envelope with this one. He had been in the shower for nearly a standard hour. With the persistent throbbing in his head only increasing by the minute, it was becoming pretty clear that the only thing he would accomplish by remaining much longer was to enhance his already impressive impersonation of an Iridonian prune.

It wasn't just the task of sorting through the jumbled mass of his own thoughts that troubled him. He was also trying to make sense out of the slew of hurtful remarks and outrageous accusations that had been hurled between his father and former Master. He would have never expected to overhear such a heated confrontation. And even more distressing were his father's unsettling comments that what had transpired was a typical interaction for them. Luke shook his head. He had been hoping to enlist the man he had known as Ben Kenobi to help him with his mission. It was a good thing that he hadn't had the opportunity to pursue that path. His father was right; it would not have been wise.

Luke had never expected that Ben—no, make that Obi-Wan—would be so different from the man he remembered. The wise, contemplative hermit whom he had met in the deserts of Tatooine was nothing like the offensive, condescending man who had burst into the apartment and furiously argued with his father. Luke surmised that twenty years of introspection and remorse had drastically changed the weary Jedi. It was another tragedy to be included on the long list of future events which he needed to alter.

What was even more troubling to Luke was that he doubted Obi-Wan had even perceived how his devastating words had affected his former Padawan. _What was he thinking? _Luke wondered. Anakin may have managed to project a facade of strength and defiance to his former Master, but it hadn't taken Luke much of an effort see beyond it. To say his father was troubled and vulnerable was an understatement. Stepping back from the situation as he was now, Luke was coming to realize that Anakin's emotional outbursts were eerily similar to what he had experienced with Jacen just before his nephew had stormed out of the Temple. It was painfully clear that Anakin was currently in a very precarious position, much like Jacen had been. It worried Luke immensely. He had not been there for his nephew when Jacen had needed him the most, and he doubted that Obi-Wan would be there for his father. He wasn't sure what he could do about the situation, although he felt pressed to intervene.

There was just so much to contemplate. All of this mental-upheaval—put together with his exhaustion due to a long, sleepless night—meant there was little wonder he had developed a headache the size of a bantha. Left to his own devices, Luke could have eased his suffering with the Force. But the protective shield that Anakin had placed around him to hide his presences was hampering his ability to sense that mystical energy field. It was impossible to connect to it in the degree necessary to eradicate his discomfort.

Although Luke was rather impressed by Anakin's skill in maintaining his ministrations at such a distance, he was still resentful of his father's overprotective actions. It also didn't help that he sporadically sensed Anakin checking up on his whereabouts through the familial bond that had apparently formed between them. It made him feel like an errant teenager suspected of sneaking out past curfew—not that he would admit to having any experience with that sort of thing...

Luke pulled his head back to let the steamy water splash onto his face. Maybe he should just surrender to the inevitable and get out. He was beginning to feel a bit guilty, after all. Although it had been years since his upbringing on Tatooine, deep in the recesses of his mind he could still hear his Uncle impatiently urging him, "Just get on with it. You can't be that dirty!" At least he didn't have to worry about running out of hot water. Luke knew from his experience in the restored Temple that it was not a concern. However, there was the problem of each dormitory room having its utilities individually metered. _He _may not need to explain the spike in water usage and a higher than normal energy consumption, but Anakin probably would.

"Serves him right," Luke grumbled to himself. He may have been concerned for his father's future well-being, but he didn't feel very magnanimous towards him at the moment.

Realizing that his mind had once again wandered away from matters at hand, he dropped his head and closed his eyes as he made another attempt to sort through the chaos.

His father was a slave...

When Luke had initially heard the revelation, it had struck him so profoundly that he had been unable to resist questioning Anakin about it the moment they were alone... An action he was still regretting. Luke was thankful that his blatant ignorance of Anakin's past had not raised his father's suspicions. Apparently, his father had planned to keep that chapter of his life deeply buried away.

Although Luke had finally gotten over the shock of learning about his father's enslavement as a child, he couldn't seem to prevent his mind from circling back to it. At least he now had a pretty good idea as to how Anakin had received his scars.

Growing up on Tatooine, Luke had been well aware that slavery was prevalent on the planet. But since the small farming community in which he had been raised was so isolated, he had not been exposed to it. As a result of his sheltered life, it had been difficult to comprehend the concept of sentient beings bound unwillingly into forced servitude. The subject itself was rarely discussed at the homestead—especially when his Uncle Owen was around. The steadfast farmer would become absolutely enraged if he even heard the word "slave_._"

It had finally struck Luke just why that was. If his father had been a slave, then it was reasonable to assume that Anakin's mother—Luke's grandmother—had shared his misfortune. Luke barely knew any more about "Grandma Shmi" than he did his father. All Uncle Owen had ever said was that she had come to the farm to help his dad with the daily chores and to take care of their family. It was Aunt Beru who had explained that Shmi and Cliegg had eventually fallen in love and married. It was apparent by how emotional his uncle would become whenever he spoke of her that Owen had deeply cared for her as well.

Just as he had his father, Luke had always wished that he had known his grandmother. She had sounded like a very special person. Although he had never been told what had happened to her, ominous words gleaned from hushed conversations had hinted that her untimely death had been both senseless and brutal. He had also come to understand that losing Shmi had devastated his grandfather, Cliegg, who passed away a few months later. From the distant expression that had fallen over his father's face earlier, Luke was sure that Anakin was aware of what had happened to Shmi. Just the memory of his mother had appeared to cause Anakin immense grief. It was clear that this was another subject into which Luke could not heedlessly delve.

The revelation of his father's enslavement had also caused Luke's mind to drift back to another time in his past—to distant memories of standing alone with Darth Vader in an empty corridor below an Imperial landing platform. It was one of the few conversations that he had had with his father. And although at the time his hands were bound and he was a prisoner in the Dark Lord's custody, it was the only occasion in which they had spoken at length without at least one of them pointing an activated lightsaber at the other.

Luke could still remember how passionately he had pleaded for his father to turn back to the light, telling him that he had faith in him to do so, and how he had invited him to walk away and leave the Empire behind. Luke could also remember how devastated he had felt when he heard his father's reply: _"It is too late for me, son." _

Reflecting on their exchange, he realized that he hadn't really listened to his father. Or maybe he had only heard Vader's words from the perspective of an abandoned child. But now, a new understanding was forming in his mind. His father had not been saying that he had chosen his dark fate over his son, but that he had felt irrevocably bound to it. When Vader had told him, "I cannot disobey my Master," he had not used the honorific to denote his mentor, but to speak of his owner. When Anakin Skywalker became Darth Vader, he had not just sought the power of the Dark Side; he had relinquished his free will to it. His father had turned into a slave once more. And if Luke could not discover the reasons behind Anakin's fall and his willingness to pledge his servitude to the Sith, then his father would be chained to that doomed fate once more...

Luke shuddered. The whole idea made him queasy. If the imminent threat of losing his father to the Dark Side wasn't bad enough, the ramification of how Anakin's disastrous choices would affect the future of the galaxy _were_—along with the prospects of the final option to counteract it.

When Luke had agreed to take up the Guardian's offer to repair the past, he had been so sure he knew what he was to do. But somewhere between being threatened with a lightsaber, taken for a harrowing ride, dangled off a building, and prodded through a ventilation system, he had come to accept that his original plan just wouldn't work. How could he even contemplate killing his father when he was feeling such guilt over asking him one thoughtless question? There had to be another way.

_"You already know the right thing to do." _

His father's ominous words rumbled into his memory. Luke tightened his jaw and struggled to dispel the gruesome imagery from his vision of Mustafar before it had a chance to solidify in his mind. Of course Luke knew the right thing to do. His ultimate goal had to remain the same. He had to destroy Darth Vader—that was clear. But since he was unwilling to harm his father, he would need to keep Anakin from falling to the Dark Side in the first place. By doing that, the Sith Lord who would ultimately destroy the galaxy would never come into existence. That was a plan he could follow.

But how? It wasn't like he could come out and ask Anakin directly. Although his father had proven to be overbearing, intimidating, and at some times even frustrating to be around, Luke was growing confident in the belief that Anakin was not evil...not yet anyway. Luke sighed. Closing his eyes and drawing on the tempered discipline he had garnered through years of practice, Luke opened himself to the Force in search of answers. After checking to confirm that his own shields were practically nonexistent, he let his mind drift and imagined that the steamy water that continued to pelt his body was washing away his chaotic thoughts—along with the pounding in his head—and taking them down the drain. At the edge of his consciousness, he felt the prickle of another concerned probe from his father. He ignored it and released what tension the intrusion had evoked along with his other unwanted emotions.

Padmé was the key. He could feel it. Even Vader had told him so in their encounter before Luke had entered the present time. Anakin had been willing to break the Jedi Code to marry Padmé in secret. Just by watching his parents together, Luke could see their utter devotion to each other. Somehow, it was no longer surprising to him that one petite senator from Naboo could be the catalyst behind the eventual destruction of the galaxy. He just wished he knew what to do to maintain his mother's well-being and prevent all the impending misery to come... She had looked radiantly healthy—although peeved—when he had met her this morning. But Anakin had expressed concern…

Luke concentrated his thoughts on everything he had ever heard about the fate of his mother. He first sorted through his own memories. As a boy, he had pestered his Aunt Beru relentlessly with questions about his parents. The one and only time that Luke had ever managed to break through her defenses; his aunt had told him that his mother had died in childbirth. Master Cilghal had said that her friend once told her that Senator Amidala had been injured and died on a remote space station. Leia had reported that Padmé's family believed that Darth Vader had killed her... The truth had to be mixed in there somewhere. But at the moment, his connection with the Force was too vague and fragmented for him to figure it out.

Opening his eyes, Luke ran a hand through his hair and pulled out of his meditation. Without answers, all he could do would be to try and stay close to her. Luke smirked at the idea. Considering how his father was currently treating him, he doubted that Anakin would ever allow unlimited access to his mother—especially as there was no way Luke would dare tell his father that she was in danger. He was sure that Anakin would not take the news well.

If Luke could not be with his mother directly, then he would need to do the next best thing. He would have to stay close to his father. At least Anakin had made it clear that he wanted to keep Luke in his sights. Now, all he had to figure out was how to be with his father without making it too obvious that he was virtually clueless about him. Anakin may have accepted who he was, and he may have felt a need to protect him—a bit too fanatically for Luke's tastes—but his father didn't trust him. Luke had to come up with a way to change that. He needed to get past his father's defenses.

Luke was confident that he was up to this task. It wasn't like he hadn't been in difficult situations before. He had confronted a rancor without the aid of a weapon and walked away from the encounter unscathed. He had fought in the galactic civil war for years and had helped to bring down an empire. He had resurrected the near-extinct Jedi Order and had dealt with more than his share of headstrong young Knights. Luke suspected that he would need to rely on all of his past experiences when dealing with his emotionally volatile father—and then he would still need to tread with extreme caution...and hope for a little Corellian luck. Despite being the focal point of his father's bursts of anger and the recipient of several physical assaults, he was beginning to... _To what?_ Luke pondered. _Respect him?_...Not yet. _Understand him?_... Absolutely not. _Like him?_ _Care about him? See glimpses of Ben, Jacen, Leia, and even himself within him?_ ...Definitely.

Luke pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. _Confronting a rancor? _Where had that come from? And why was he getting a sinking feeling that the memory of that encounter could turn out to be the most helpful of all?**  
**

***

Anakin paced relentlessly across the High Council anteroom. His frustration was growing with every ground-eating stride he took. What was the point of rescheduling this infernal meeting if the Council had planned on keeping him out here to stew? Were they just trying to irritate him? Was this some perverse punishment meted out for his tardiness?

He huffed in exasperation. When the Chancellor had first appointed him as his personal representative, Anakin had barely been able to hold back his excitement over his new assignment. Now, he just wanted to get all of this superfluous business over with. The anticipation of what was soon-to-transpire no longer held the same significance to him as it had even this morning. If it wouldn't cause the uproar that he knew would ensue, he would just step into the turbolift right now and get back down to his son.

This waiting around was ridiculous. It was unnecessary. All the Masters needed to do was to allow him to enter, announce his new rank, and then officially appoint him to the Council. It wasn't as if they had much of a say in the matter. As vexed as the Council members no doubt were by Palpatine's heavy-handed decree, there was little that they could do if they did not want to defy the Chancellor openly. Even Anakin knew that the Jedi would never try something like that—it was against their mandate. Besides, it would be treason.

Anakin glanced over at the young Togruta Padawan who had been assigned as the day's ostiary. The unadulterated look of hero-worship clearly tinged the girl's delicate features as she watched him pace impatiently across the room. Anakin absently wondered what possible indiscretion she had committed to have landed her with this disciplinary sanction. From his own experience, he knew that it would have to have been something rather significant. The mischievous glint in the girl's eyes gave him the impression that she had probably masterminded some sort of juvenile prank against a Master. He grinned at the thought. He hoped that she had at least been successful in her antics before being caught. It would have made this punishment far more tolerable.

Pulling his mind away from the luckless Padawan, he halted his steps. He needed to concentrate on regaining control of his tumultuous emotions. The last thing he could afford was to walk into the Council chamber vulnerable and unprepared. He knew that the strain of maintaining his son's protection at this distance was making him edgy, but what could he do? He refused to even think about abandoning Luke now. Inhaling a calming breath, Anakin closed his eyes as he reached out to check once more on his son.

Anakin found him easy enough. Luke was still in the shower. The young Knight ran a hand over his disheveled hair as his anxiety ratcheted up a notch higher. How could anyone need to shower this long? What had it been, an hour? It was obvious that his son had never experienced the harsh restrictions required to survive life on a desert planet. If he had, he would not be so frivolous in wasting water like this. Anakin shook his head. If he didn't know better, he would suspect that Luke was part Nautolan.

Anakin was shaken out of his musings by the sound of the young Padawan hesitantly clearing her throat.

"Excuse me, Master Skywalker," she said as she began to pull on one of the massive doors to the High Council Chamber. "You can go in now."

Anakin swallowed with some difficulty. All of his bravado instantly vanished as an unwanted memory of being led into an arena on Geonosis began to rise in his mind. He squashed it down. Anakin at least retained enough higher brain function to respond with a bow in courtesy to the young girl before moving forward. Her reciprocating smile seemed to fill the small room with light. It also appeared to work its calming magic on the young Knight. Just as he reached the door, he paused and extended his arm and gently placed it a gloved hand on the Padawan's shoulder.

"Thank you," he returned with a lopsided grin. He then re-schooled his features into an emotionless mask and stepped into the room.

Anakin moved smoothly to the center of the Council chamber. He purposefully avoiding looking at where he knew Obi-Wan would be sitting as he passed. Although most of the Masters were in attendance by hologram, Anakin could still feel the air thicken around him in anticipation. He took a deep breath and nodded in respect to his superiors. He then focused on the two most powerful members of the High Council.

Master Yoda sat huddled in the back in his oversized chair, his legs crossed in a meditative pose. His clawed hands were clasped before him, and his small chin rested upon them. Although Yoda looked anything but threatening, Anakin had always been wary of him. Even now, he could feel the ancient Master's attempt to probe past his mental shields. Reflexively, Anakin pulled himself to full height and tried to strengthen his facade of calm.

Next to the Grand Master sat Anakin's greatest nemesis. Master Mace Windu was leaning forward from his chair, his weight supported by his elbows, which were balanced on his knees. Powerful, intimidating, and bald—the dark-skinned Jedi was not a man to be trifled with. Anakin had always wondered if Master Windu had ever experienced anything remotely resembling a good mood. Judging from the man's current demeanor and his dour glare, it was definitely not going to be happening today.

"Knight Skywalker," Mace's voice boomed through the circular room. "How kind of you to decide to finally join us."

"Forgive me, Masters," Anakin apologized. "I can offer no excuse for the lateness of my arrival."

"Neither could Master Kenobi," Master Stass Allie quipped.

Anakin didn't bother to turn toward her. She was scowling at him—he was sure of it. It was practically all she ever did.

"Now, regarding our esteemed Chancellor's decree—"

"Another matter there is," Yoda interrupted the Korun Master. He was the only being in the room that could do so without repercussions. "Address it first we should."

Master Windu looked both annoyed and surprised at the Grand Master's disruption. But he recovered quickly. "Of course, Master Yoda. You have the floor."

"A disturbance in the Force there was. Felt it clearly I did during the Chancellor's rescue. An anomaly remained in its wake. Even now, sense this imbalance I do."

Anakin shifted uncomfortably. He concentrated on maintaining an outward appearance of steely calm—while he subconsciously tightened the shield around Luke. Glancing around the room, Anakin noted that the other Masters seemed just as curious about the direction that Yoda's inquiry had taken.

Master Windu took the initiative to continue. "The Council would like to know if you were also aware of such a disturbance."

"I was a bit busy during the Chancellor's rescue, Master," Anakin tentatively answered. "Why would you believe that I would?"

"Long have I meditated on its cause," Yoda answered. "To you the Force directs me to find answers."

"I am sorry, Master," Anakin mouthed the words carefully. He would never be foolish enough to try and deceive Yoda directly. "But there isn't anything that I can say."

There may not be anything he could to say, but it didn't mean that he wasn't aware of the situation. Of course he knew about the disturbance. The cause of it was down in his room right now—standing in the shower—wasting an obscenely extravagant amount of water...

Anakin heaved a calming breath. He could only hope that the vagueness of his answer would be enough to deflect the Grand Master's suspicions.

"Humph," Yoda sighed heavily. The ancient Master's long pointed ears drooped in a display of his disappointment at Anakin's response. He leaned back further in his chair.

Anakin could feel Yoda's misgivings heighten and take shape, assuming a near-physical presence. They crept around him as if looking for access into his mind. Anakin knew his shields were strong. They were practically impenetrable. There was only a pinpoint of vulnerability–one small opening–a necessary exposure to provide a conduit that maintained the protective shield around his son. Anakin kept a steady eye on the small green Master. He tightened his jaw as he felt even more pressure from Yoda's probing. He could feel a concentration of intensity at one particular spot. Anakin blinked. He felt a small shift in the Force and realized what was happening. His stoic exterior facade remained intact even as panic filled him. Consequences became irrelevant as his anxieties took voice and screamed within his head:

_"HE KNOWS!"_

_***_

Luke gasped as he felt his father's protection rip away without warning. The intense vacuum that was created in its wake nearly dropped him to his knees. The world tilted. His head spun. He had to reach out to the wall for support. Before he could even manage to take a breath, the Force came surging back to fill him in all its potency and replace the void. It felt as if he had stepped into the backwash of his X-Wing. The impact practically sent him to the ground once more.

This was_ not _good!

Before he could think to do anything else, Luke instinctively reached out to find his father. His attempt was immediately repelled by Anakin's resonating mental shields. Despite the dominating barrier, Luke could still sense the swirling disarray of Anakin's volatile emotions clouding all other insights about his father's current situation. All he knew was that whatever the circumstances had been to cause Anakin to abruptly pull his protection away, they had been altogether unexpected.

Luke closed his eyes and took a deep settling breath as he tightened down his own defenses. Although he welcomed his reconnection to the Force, it had not come without complications. Luke had completely dropped his own mental shields when he had attempted to meditate earlier. Due to his father's suffocating ministrations, he had not bothered to raise them again. With no moderation or control, he was sure that, at the moment the Force once again filled him, his presence had flared brightly. Even now, he was feeling vulnerable and incredibly exposed—far more than his current state of standing naked in the shower would normally dictate. At this moment, he was acutely aware of just how many Jedi were currently residing in the Temple. He swallowed hard as he realized that if he could sense them, then it was reasonable to assume that they would be able to sense him. Already, he could feel one extremely well-disciplined and determined mind focusing toward his direction.

Luke's gut began to tighten. He recognized the owner of that Force presence. The memory of the being that possessed it filled him with both nostalgia and dread. It was Master Yoda.

He couldn't be discovered—especially by him. He needed to hide. He had argued with his father earlier in the day stating that he was fully capable of protecting himself. Well, apparently now he was going to have to prove it. There was one easy way to accomplish what he needed to do, but he wasn't thrilled with the idea. A light brush against his shields by Master Yoda's inquisitive probe quickly convinced him to forgo the consequences and proceed. He had no time to work out another option. Luke grimaced. He closed his eyes and pooled his concentration. Reaching out to the Force, he took a firm hold of it and...tweaked.**  
**

***

Darth Sidious stiffened visibly as his head snapped up to peer out the large transparisteel window. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he focused on the Jedi Temple far in the distance. Something had happened—something disturbing. A blinding flair of energy had pulsated so powerfully that it had momentarily cut through the smothering blanket of darkness that he had worked so hard to construct. He closed his eyes and pulled strands of tainted Force energy tightly around him. There was no time to waste; he needed to hunt down this disturbance and discover the source...

"Chancellor Palpatine?"

Sidious' jaw tightened as he struggled to control his wrath. He exhaled slowly and let his features relax back into the benevolent facade his doppelganger needed to project. Turning back around, he opened his eyes and focused on the owner of the voice that had so rudely interrupted his ministrations.

"Chancellor Palpatine," Senator Orn Free Taa repeated. "Are you not feeling well?"

"On the contrary, Senator," Palpatine answered tightly. He forced himself to feign a fatherly smile toward the pompous Twi'lek, all the while envisioning himself signing the man's death warrant with a great deal of satisfaction. "I am quite well. Please excuse the interruption."

Unaware of the Chancellor's hidden desires, Orn Free Taa simply returned the gesture and nodded graciously.

"Now, then," Palpatine said as he scanned the handful of other representatives in the room. "Shall we continue?" He turned his full attention to the petite woman who sat directly in front of him. "Your next point, Senator Amidala?"


	22. Chapter 22 Collateral Damage

_A/N #1: I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy. _

_A/N #2: This story would not be what it is without the help of my very competent beta reader, "Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu." Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated._

_A/N #3: I am apologizing up front. I promised those of you who reviewed the last chapter that I would have this post up today. I wanted to stick to my word. Reluctantly, it appears that the site is being a bit flaky at the moment. I was just going over the post one last time to try and catch the last of the spacing issues that always appear when I upload, and it looks like my changes will not save to the file. As the fixes are so minor, I have decided to go ahead and post. I will go back and tweak later. Hopefully, the site will work better then. Please enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter 22** **– Collateral Damage:**

The door swished opened, and Luke stepped out amid billowing clouds of steam. The temperature differential between the fresher and the bedroom inadvertently caused a chill to skitter across his skin. He paid it little mind.

Luke padded barefoot across the cold tile floor to the large dresser situated against the wall. Since he was already wearing one of his father's hand-me-down uniforms, he doubted if Anakin would mind him riffling through the rest of his belongings in search of the remaining pieces to his attire. Working his way down to the third drawer, he finally found what he had been searching for. Luke pulled out a mated pair of woolly white socks and sighed in relief and closed the dresser drawer. Glancing quickly around the stark bedroom, he moved over to the cot and sat down on the edge of it so that he could cover his still-tender feet.

That task complete, Luke arched his back and yawned deeply as he extended out his arms in a mighty stretch. He could feel the popping in his shoulders and back as he twisted and pulled his muscles taunt. The return of his unrestricted Force sensitivity had gone a long way in his regaining the ability to center himself and release his anxieties. He was finally starting to feel like himself again. It was about time.

There seemed to be only one repercussion from his initial arrival back to this time that doggedly refused to resolve itself. Although his lengthy shower had helped to rejuvenate his muscle-strained and sleep-deprived body, the abrupt end of it—caused by the loss of his father's protection—had consequently managed to increase the annoying pounding in his head. Dropping his back down onto the cot, Luke let his head sink into the soft pillow as he swung his legs up from the floor and stretched them out in front of him. He closed his eyes and focused on the pattern of his breathing in an attempt to alleviate his infernal headache.

He was also trying his best not to worry about his father—especially avoiding any thoughts as to what could have caused Anakin to pull his protection away so abruptly. Luke continued to hope that Anakin had sufficiently recovered from his earlier argument with Obi-Wan to handle whatever situation he was currently facing. Admittedly, however, he wasn't feeling overly optimistic.

Deciding to check once more on his father, Luke took another deep breath and reached out with his mind. The tentative familial bond between them had seemed to be strengthening each time he had accessed the link. He certainly hoped that he would not come to regret the connection.

Luke found Anakin immediately. His father hadn't moved from his location since the last time he had checked, so he assumed that his father was still with the Council. Although Luke could sense no threat of physical danger, he was still concerned by the torrent of chaotic emotions he sensed swirling behind the young Jedi's impressively strong shields. Anakin made no attempt to respond to his son's mental probe. Luke was pretty sure he wouldn't even be aware of it—not with the current way Luke was masking his own presence in the Force.

Pulling out of his meditation, Luke blinked his eyes open several times and focused on the white tiles above his head. He folded his hands over his chest and once again pushed down the nagging guilt he felt due to the method of his concealment.

He hadn't wanted to do it, but it had been an emergency. He couldn't allow himself to be detected—especially by Master Yoda. Master Hatu's warnings had immediately come to the forefront of his thoughts as soon as he realized that the current Grand Master was hunting for him through the Force. Despite Luke's certainty that the Yoda he had known on Dagobah would just pack him off to Agnostos and send him back to where he came from, he had no idea what the Yoda of this time period would do. Seeing that Ben—Luke mentally slapped himself for the umpteenth time—_Obi-Wan_ appeared to be such a different person than the mentor he had known, Luke could only assume that Yoda would be just as "close-minded" as well.

No, it was just as well to remain hidden from everyone—even if he had to do so by somewhat nefarious means. Luke grimaced. It really wasn't a Dark Side illusion, he rationalized. He had never actually found a reference to the method in any of the Sith holocrons that had discovered over the years. It was just...extremely deceitful. The method to accomplish it was actually very simple to learn and highly successful in keeping one's Force presence from being discovered. A "void bubble" was the best way to describe it. Mara had taught him how to accomplish it shortly after they had both realized they had feelings for each other. Luke's lips quirked ever so slightly at the memory. She had told him he needed to learn it so that he wouldn't endanger her on their shared missions. But he was pretty sure that she had actually just grown tired of rescuing his hide every time he inadvertently stumbled into a trap.

But knowing where Mara had originally learned the technique—along with how she had employed it during her duties as an Imperial Hand—Luke had never been entirely comfortable with it. To make matters worse, he was sure that Mara's future Master was probably employing the same method right now. There was no other possible way that Palpatine could interact so closely with the Jedi and not be detected for the monster he truly was.

Thoughts of Palpatine brought Luke's mind back to focus on his father. Luke had been surprised to hear Obi-Wan's comments regarding Anakin's existing relationship with the Chancellor. Obi-Wan had only mentioned a friendship between the two, but considering Anakin's heated defense of the Chancellor, there was apparently more to it than just that. It worried Luke deeply...Especially since the Chancellor had been given access to interact with Anakin right under the Jedi's noses. Was Anakin even now being groomed as a Dark Lord apprentice?

Luke stifled a yawn as he shifted around to make himself more comfortable. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath. He knew that he would somehow need to discover the depth of this connection between Palpatine and Anakin. He would need to do it quickly...but also extremely carefully. The last thing he could afford to do was to offend his father—again.

* * *

Anakin could not keep from fidgeting as he stood in front of the closed turbolift door. He felt as if every nerve ending in his body was on fire. It was taking far too long for the pod to respond to his summons. The young Jedi once again mumbled a string of curses directed at whoever had called the kriffing thing away from the top level.

He needed to get out of here. Well, more specifically, he needed to get away from the members of the infernal Jedi Council. He couldn't even bear to watch them saunter out of the Council chambers.

He started to pace. His long strides quickly covered the confined area in front of the unyielding doors. He knew his demeanor was anything but Jedi-like, and he didn't care. It was the only thing he could think to do to keep himself from prying the door open with his lightsaber and jumping down the shaft.

Anakin also hoped that by moving he could keep his thoughts from being completely consumed with worry for Luke—but instead, his concern had continued to grow by the nanosecond. Anakin reached out once more with his mind to reestablish the protective shield that he had earlier abandoned in his panic. He was met with the same ethereal vacancy where his son's presence was supposed to reside. _Where could he be?! _

Anakin rubbed a hand over his face. In an effort to try and not leap out of his skin, he attempted to focus his thoughts onto another subject—like how the Masters had handled the Chancellor's decree. _Okay, that wasn't helpful._ Thinking about the Council was just making him more upset.

What the Jedi Council had done was unheard of. It was an insult...an outrage. How dare they twist and degrade the Chancellor's directive to such an extent? To have rebuked Palpatine's orders outright would have been treason. But what they had managed to do had effectively perverted Palpatine's original intention all the same. _I should have known the Masters would do something like this. _Hadn't he even warned the Chancellor that the Council would never accept the order? He should have listened closer to his own advice.

But regardless of what he had expected, he had not been prepared for the extent of the fallout. In their need to display their defiance, the Council members had acted with complete disregard for him. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. They had never cared about him. What did it matter that he had just been humiliated in front of the entire Jedi Order—no, the entire _galaxy? _How dare they allow him to sit on the Council yet deny him a voice? Deny him a vote... Deny him the rank of _Master_!

Anakin stopped his pacing. _This isn't helping. _His futile movements were just exacerbating his current sense of being trapped. Anakin took a deep, shuddering breath and released it slowly through his clenched teeth. He reached up with a gloved hand and rubbed at the tension building in the back of his neck. If it hadn't been for his worry over Luke, nothing would have kept him from flying into a tirade in front of the entire arrogant, egotistical, sanctimonious, close-minded lot! He should thank his son for giving him the fortitude necessary to hold his tongue—if he could ever _find_ him!

A wave of guilt flushed through him. Anakin still couldn't believe he had allowed this to happen. How could he have let himself be provoked into leaving Luke unprotected and vulnerable? Even now, his son was—_somewhere_—exposed in the midst of the Temple and surrounded by several hundred Jedi. It didn't matter that most of them were younglings and Padawans. Considering the rather pathetic skills that his son had displayed to this point, Anakin was sure that even the youngest initiates could detect Luke if they put their minds to it.

Anakin stopped in front of the turbolift controls once more and rapidly hit the button several times with a gloved fist. If he wasn't careful, he was likely to knock the entire _stoopa _panel right into the wall with the strength of his mechanical arm. And then where would that leave him? No doubt hearing another lecture about controlling one's emotions and acting with appropriate discretion… Yeah, like he needed any further delay. Being stuck up here any longer than necessary was the last thing he needed. He quickly scanned the anteroom for another escape route. Maybe he could just jump out a window...

Anakin frowned as his visual survey of the room revealed a familiar form stepping through the ornately carved doors of the Council chamber. The great Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi himself. The last man he wanted to see at the moment. Undaunted, Obi-Wan headed purposefully toward him.

"Anakin, we need to talk," Obi-Wan said softly as he came to a halt in front of the younger man.

"I have already heard enough from you," Anakin growled.

"Calm down, Anakin," Obi-Wan ordered as he reached out to place a firm hand on the younger man's arm. "There is more that I must tell you."

Anakin ripped his arm away. "I think you have said enough,_ Master_...at least to me." He glared at the older man. His anger was no longer able to be contained. "You could have spoken up for me in there, you know." He flailed his right arm in the direction of the Council chamber. "You could have told them that they were wrong—that I _do_ deserve to be made a Master. Instead, you left me there to hang. You abandoned me." He took a step closer to the older man and narrowed his eyes. "You betrayed me!"

"I did no such thing."

"Why didn't you tell me about what they were planning to do?" he seethed. "You could have at least given me some warning. But no, that wouldn't have been the Jedi way, would it? Why is it that I repeatedly risk my life looking out for you on the battlefield when you can't even bring yourself to speak up for me in front of a room full of Jedi?"

"I did try to warn you, Anakin," Obi-Wan countered as he ignored Anakin's most hurtful accusation. "That was one of my intentions when I came to your quarters. I conveyed everything that I was allowed to disclose. I had hoped that you would have seen past my words and understood their meaning."

"Well, I'm sorry I'm not omnipotent like you!" Anakin yelled.

"Lower your voice, young man," Obi-Wan scolded.

"Or what?" Anakin challenged. "You'll drag me back in front of the Council to be humiliated further? You and the rest of the Masters have already surpassed yourselves today. What more could you possibly do?"

"Trust me, Anakin," Obi-Wan warned. "The Council can and_ will _do much more if you do not regain control of yourself. This unwarranted display of emotion does not bode well for your position. Seeing you this irrational only serves to confirm the reasons behind the Council's decision."

Anakin clenched his jaw as he felt the rush of air on his back as the turbolift door opened. _Finally! _Keeping a feral glare on the man in front of him, he cautiously took several steps back until he stood well within the pod.

"Well, then," he grounded out, "maybe it would be best for the Council if they didn't have to see me at all."

"Anakin…" Obi-Wan began as he took a step forward. He gasped in shock as he felt the effects of a well-placed Force-push centered on the middle of his chest and stumbled back a few steps in response to the impact. Through widened eyes, Obi-Wan watched as the turbolift doors closed and separated him from the angry young man whom he had apparently offended for the second time today.

* * *

"Damn him!" the Jedi Master cursed as he ran a hand over his features. For the majority of his life, Obi-Wan had resisted the temptation to express himself through vulgarity. But he was finding that he was defying his own self-imposed discipline with surprising regularity of late. Especially when dealing with an increasingly out-of-control Anakin Skywalker.

"Master Kenobi, are you all right?"

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and winced as he heard the grim voice of Mace Windu calling to him across the anteroom. _Not now,_ Obi-Wan thought as he clamped his jaw and tightened his mental shields.

Ever since his arrival at the Temple, Anakin had consistently maintained that the Koran Master disliked him. No matter how adamantly Obi-Wan explained that the boy had simply misinterpreted the man's intimidating demeanor, his Padawan would not be swayed from his perception. After sitting on the Council for the past year, Obi-Wan had begrudgingly admitted to himself that Anakin had been somewhat correct all along. Master Windu had proven to be the young man's most outspoken critic, going so far as to suggest censure and disciplinary action for some of Anakin's more flamboyant actions on the battlefield. What was worse was that he had managed to sway several of the other Council members to his way of thinking. Stars only knew what would happen if Anakin was ever put in a position where Mace Windu was his only direct superior.

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan folded his arms within the sleeves of his tunic and turned around to wait for Master Windu to stride up to him. "I'm fine, Master Windu," he returned with a tight smile. "Thank you for your concern."

The other Jedi narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he glanced toward the closed turbolift door and then back at Obi-Wan."I could sense Skywalker's displeasure. Has he already left?"

"Well, you know Anakin." Obi-Wan tipped his head with a shrug. "Always on the move."

"Were you able to relay the rest of his assignment?"

"Not completely, no," Obi-Wan frowned. He could clearly feel a spike in the other Jedi's distrust of Anakin through the Force. It annoyed him immensely. Unable to resist the protective urge to defend his former Padawan, Obi-Wan proffered a response that would hopefully keep the young man away from any further turmoil.

"Anakin needed to attend to another important matter," he said. "I will speak to him in detail later this afternoon."

"What could be more important than receiving an assignment from the Council?" the other Council member grumbled.

"An unofficial assignment, you mean," Obi-Wan corrected. "One that cannot be acknowledged and must remain off the record."

Mace Windu scowled and ignored Obi-Wan's clarification. "Master Yoda will be leaving for Kashyyyk at first light tomorrow. He will want to be assured that Skywalker will fulfill his duty while he is away."

"Don't worry, my friend," Obi-Wan averred with more confidence then he felt. He reached forward to place a calloused hand on Mace's shoulder. "Anakin has never failed to perform his duty. He will do what has been asked of him. I am sure of it."

Obi-Wan kept a steady gaze on the other man, exuding far more confidence in Anakin's acceptance of his assignment than he felt himself. The Korun Master finally relented and with a wary grunt of acceptance turned away and headed back toward the Council chamber. Obi-Wan watched him leave as his own trepidation continued to grow. How he could be so confident in his former Padawan's compliance, he didn't know. He was slowly acknowledging to himself that he wasn't sure he knew Anakin anymore at all.

* * *

Anakin leaned heavily against the back wall of the turbolift pod. He forcefully threw back his head and was rewarded with a sharp crack as it collided with the solid wood paneling. _I deserved that. _But the self-inflicted punishment did nothing to assuage the growing guilt of his previous actions.

Shaking his head in disgust, he pulled away from the wall. He had once more given in to the dark urges within him. This time, it had led him to an assault on Obi-Wan with the Force. How could he have done that? He loved him...Well, it was true that he was presently beyond angry with the man, but Obi-Wan was still like a father to him.

Remembering the flash of perverse satisfaction he had felt when watching the surprise wash over the older man's face sent a wave of disgust through him. How could he have allowed his anger to take control of him like that? He could only imagine the intense and uncomfortable lecture he would receive the next time he faced his former Master. And he knew with all certainty that he would deserve every last humiliating word when it came.

This day was quickly becoming one of the worst days of his life. Padmé's near-disastrous discovery of Luke in her apartment, the long arduous trek into the Temple, the events over the last few hours… Now, he had just assaulted a Council member...not to mention misplacing his son... He wasn't sure how much more turmoil he would be able to handle...

Anakin shook his head. He still wasn't sure if he had managed to maintain a stoic appearance immediately after clamping his shields tight and abandoning Luke's protection, but since there had been no reaction from the Masters—especially Master Yoda—he obviously had.

He barely remembered listening as Mace Windu sanctimoniously dictated exactly how the Chancellor's decree would be implemented. The whole experience reminded Anakin of another Council meeting—when he had been denied his dreams to become a Jedi simply because he was too old. Well, he had survived that first encounter with the "wise Masters." He had achieved his goal despite the closed-minded prejudices of the time. He would survive this too. It was like the Chancellor had said...The Masters were afraid of him—afraid of his power. Maybe he would show them all just how powerful he was...

Anakin came up short as he realized that he was hearing the darkness once again. What was he_ thinking? _He didn't have time for this. He needed to get back to Luke. He needed to _find _him.

Closing his eyes, he tried once more to reach out for his son's presence. And again, there was nothing. He shouldn't have left him unprotected for so long, Anakin admonished himself. Jedi Masters be damned! He should have just reestablished their link the moment he had been unceremoniously directed to take a seat by Master Windu. He would have, too, if it hadn't been for Master Yoda's scrutinizing attention. Every time he had attempted to stretch out with his mind, he could feel the Grand Master's penetrating glare upon him. He really didn't care what repercussions his actions would generate between him and the Council, but he couldn't put his son into any more danger. _My son_—_the time-traveling fugitive!_

The rest of the meeting had been mostly one gigantic blur. He thought he had heard something about Kashyyyk. He hadn't been all that interested. Of course, if there was a battle that would involve the Wookies, Anakin was sure that Master Yoda would choose to lead the defenses. _Good riddance_, he derisively thought. Right now, nothing would please him more than if the entire lot of remaining Council members decided they all needed to take a more personal interest in the Outer Rim Sieges.

He had been none-too-happy when Master Yoda had insisted on returning to the subject of the mysterious Force disturbance just before the Council meeting had ended. Nor had Anakin been comfortable with the way the aged Jedi had continually kept him in his calculating gaze while he did so—although Anakin _was_ rather proud of himself that he had managed to sit through the entire discussion without displaying a hint of emotion.

_Master Yoda knows something. _Anakin wasn't sure how...but he was positive that the Grand Master was far more aware of the details around this _disturbance _than he was letting on. It was distressing to know that Yoda seemed to suspect Anakin's involvement. Stars forbid if the Grand Master ever found out how deep his involvement actually went.

The nervous tension suddenly broke within him, and he chuckled aloud. He could practically see himself being chased around the Temple by the enraged, stick-wielding, little green Master. He somehow doubted that his shins would be Yoda's only desired target.

But the humorous moment was fleeting. The levity of the mental image died quickly as a stab of panic raced through him once again. He needed to get Luke to safety. At this very moment, Yoda could be ordering a cadre of Knights to storm into his room and take his son into custody...

Mercifully, the pod door finally opened onto the main foyer of the Temple. In a flurry of dark robes, Anakin raced across the polished tiles and through the sparsely populated halls to make his way to the dormitory wing. His wild run garnered awed gapes from the younglings he passed as well as disapproving glares from their Masters. He would be hearing about this blatant disregard of Temple conduct at some point, too. He was sure of it. His uncivilized behavior would be just another item on Obi-Wan's ever-growing list.

Too impatient to wait for another turbolift, Anakin rushed through the doors to the stairwell. He pulled the Force to him for aid and started climbing the steps two at a time. He had sixteen floors to go. He didn't even think to take a breath until he had covered two of them.

With his burning lungs screaming for air, Anakin burst out of the stairwell onto the nineteenth floor. Between the demands of his oxygen-deprived body and his skyrocketing anxieties, he was seeing black spots swim in front of his vision. He took a moment to place a shaky hand on the wall and heave several deep breaths to clear his head. It didn't help.

At least the hallway was empty, he noted. If Yoda had sent out a team to apprehend Luke, he was sure he would see some evidence of them…unless they had already been there and left… Fear seized his chest. It wasn't only his overexertion that caused him to no longer be able to take a breath.

One final attempt to mentally call to his son provided no result. Panic descended over Anakin's brain and numbed it beyond the capacity for rational thought. He instinctively gathered the Force to him once more and lunged forward toward his destination.

He raised his hand while still several meters away, and the front door to his cell flew open. Enhancing his speed, he pushed ahead. Anakin was at a full run by the time he burst through the opening.

Only then did he realize his folly…

"_SHAVIT!!!"_


	23. Chapter 23 Always On The Move

_A/N #1: I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy. _

_A/N #2: This story would not be what it is without the help of my very competent beta reader, "Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu." Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated._

* * *

**Chapter 23** **– Always On The Move:**

Instinct had Luke jumping off the cot at the sound of a thunderous crash. Reflex had him bolting across the room before he could think better of his actions. Habit had him assuming a defensive stance once he burst through the open doorway. Confusion had him dropping his jaw as he saw his discombobulated father lying in the middle of the room. And humility had him averting his eyes as he heard Anakin's multi-lingual diatribe of curses which was so blue it would make a Hutt blush. The only thing missing from this scene...was a logical explanation as to what the _kriff_ was going on!

Luke rubbed a hand over his face in an attempt to clear his sleep-addled mind and work though the absurdity of the situation. His first thought was to open himself up to the Force. He did so but was nearly knocked back into the other room by the torrent of his father's emotions churning through the apartment. He wasn't going to find any answers that way. Instead, he clamped his mental shields tighter to defend against the onslaught and relied on his other senses to try to make sense out of what he had stumbled into.

He immediately noted that the room was in even greater disarray than when he had first walked through it. Several of the heavily laden tables had been upturned—apparently upon Anakin's unconventional return—and their broken contents were strewn about the floor, adding to the mess that was already there. In the center of everything was his father—thrashing furiously as he struggled to disentangle himself from a web of wiring and components...and still swearing loudly. Luke had never known anyone with such an extensive vocabulary of expletives. It made Han's colorful repartee pale in comparison. He was impressed.

Luke was forced to duck defensively as the top half of a voltage regulator crashed into the wall next to his head.

"Hey!" he shouted. "Watch where you're throwing that stuff."

"Luke!" Anakin instantly ceased his tirade. The shock and overwhelming relief of seeing his son standing safely before him was plain to see on his face. Then, in less time than it would take for a Tatooinian sandstorm to strip the hide off a ronto, his features hardened into a mix of anger and outrage. "Luke! Where the hells have you been?"

"Ah..." Luke was even more perplexed. He absently raised his hand from his side and motioned behind him with his thumb. "Actually, I was sleeping..."

"I don't mean that," Anakin spat as he finally managed to raise himself off the floor. "Why were you hiding from me?"

"Hiding?" Luke sputtered. "I wasn't... Oh, you mean the void—_umf—_" Luke's comment was interrupted as two large hands grabbed his biceps and forcefully crushed him back into the wall.

"Don't you ever, _ever, _do that to me again!" Anakin ranted.

Still too disoriented by his rude awakening to make sense of his father's words, Luke reacted with instinct. He twisted his body, sent an elbow fiercely into his assailant, grabbed on to a flailing arm, reached into the Force, pivoted again, and pulled. It wasn't until he felt the cumbersome weight of his father propelling over his shoulder that he realized what he had done. Luke could only watch in horror as his father landed in an ungainly heap back in the same spot where Luke had first found him.

Anakin struggled to roll onto his back and propped himself up onto his elbows. The look of utter disbelief on his face mirrored that of his son's. As they each stared dumbly at the other, Anakin's expression slowly morphed—first into something Luke could only describe as embarrassment for being so thoroughly blindsided...and then into a mask of smoldering anger. Anakin's fierce blue eyes glared vehemently up at Luke, and the muscles in his jaw rippled in steely determination as the Force began to crackle around him.

"You attacked me!" Anakin roared.

"You attacked me first!" Luke yelled back.

Hearing his father's indignation, Luke felt the flames of his own anger ignite. The current circumstances were probably not the most conventional way to improve his relationship with his father, but they just might help him finally get through to the stubborn man. Besides, Luke wasn't planning on furthering his role as a hapless incompetent any longer. True, his father was taller, broader, more physically fit and—it was to be admitted—younger, but that hadn't kept him from being taken totally unawares.

"How dare you—" Anakin started.

"I told you before that I didn't like being thrown into walls," Luke snapped hotly. "I meant it." Continuing to glare at his father, Luke worked hard to regain control of his emotions. He released his anger but obstinately held on to the tinge of pride he could feel deep within him. The ease with which he had tapped into the Force and the success of his actions had felt empowering. Obscurely, Luke also realized that his headache had finally abated. It was amazing what a little restful sleep could do for a person.

Maintaining the severity of his own features, Luke watched his father and attempted to anticipate his next move. Apparently, his perceived ire was having a desirable effect on the man. He was finally getting through to the Gamorrean-headed young Jedi.

Anakin diverted his eyes and slowly drooped his head. The blush in his cheeks grew to indicate more than just over-exertion.

"I'm—ah," Anakin stammered. "I... When I couldn't find you... I thought you—ah... I didn't mean to..." Anakin closed his eyes and swallowed. "I—I'm sorry."

His father's inelegant apology had appeared to be practically painful. From the smattering of coherent words, Luke was starting to piece together what had probably precipitated this particular episode. Empathy for Anakin began to rise as the reasons for the Jedi's manic behavior slowly dawned on him. Luke's mind flashed back to memories of his own irrational conduct the first time his son had decided to play an impromptu game of hide-and-seek with him and Mara. Ben had been three, and they had been traveling to Endor on the _Falcon._ He had nearly torn the ship apart hunting for the boy (not that anyone would have noticed—it was the _Falcon, _after all).

"Augh!" Anakin fell back to the floor as he grabbed his hair in frustration. "I can't believe I just ran across the Temple like a crazed reek. How could I have allowed myself to lose control like that? What a _Di'kut!"_Anakin berated himself. He took a shuddering breath and looked up at his son. "You must think that I have completely lost my mind."

Luke had jumped in surprise at his father's unexpected outburst. As he listened to Anakin's confession, he had to bite down on his inner cheek to maintain an even expression. Luke was once again made acutely aware how young and emotionally immature the man lying in front of him was. His father was totally unprepared for his upcoming role as a parent... A role that Luke was bound and determined to make sure that Anakin would have the opportunity to fulfill.

"Welcome to one of the darker sides of fatherhood," Luke quietly confided.

"This felt worse than facing a battalion of doidekas without my lightsaber," Anakin moaned. He pulled his head up and gazed at the older man with intensity. "Will being a father always be this—_unsettling?_"

"Not always." Luke smiled. "It has its perks, too."

It seemed so surreal to Luke that his father would have asked him that. Then again, from their conversation earlier this morning, Anakin knew that Luke had eight years of experience over him. Luke smiled to himself. He realized that with this odd-sounding question, his father had actually treated him with something other than condescension and mistrust for the first time since they had met. Maybe tossing the young man on his butt _had _brought him to his senses. He could only hope.

Emboldened with a fledgling sense of confidence, Luke brushed a few circuit boards and assorted components away with his foot to make a clear spot on the floor. Anakin sat up and shifted out of the way as Luke crossed his ankles and descended gracefully down to sit himself on the ground, his legs crossed in a meditative position.

"Now, do you want to explain to me what all of this is about?" Luke asked. "I assume that it has something to do with what happened in the Council meeting." He watched as his troubled father's shoulders slumped in dejection. It was as if the young man had deflated before him.

"Oh, yeah. Definitely something to do with the Council meeting..." Anakin said glumly.

"What?"

"Why ask?" Anakin pouted. He brought his head up and turned a sharp eye on his son."You're from the future. You should already know." Anakin's gaze hardened suspiciously. "Was this one of those _significant events _that you claimed to have come back to witness? Are you here to watch me be humiliated in front of the entire Jedi Order?"

Luke resisted the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes. _Was Anakin always this difficult? _He suddenly felt a jolt of empathy for Obi-Wan race through him. Luke pushed the errant thoughts aside and forced himself to keep his expression neutral, as he fully realized what was at stake. Luke didn't want to lose this opportunity by doing anything rash. A misstep now would probably send his father retreating back behind his wall of defensiveness and hurt faster than lightspeed.

"I wasn't in the Council chamber to observe you, now was I?" He kept his voice calm and even.

Anakin closed his eyes and took a deep shuddering breath. "No, you weren't," he admitted.

"Then I would say that what took place up there was obviously not on my list." Luke paused to allow his father time to comprehend the truth behind his words. "Now, tell me what happened."

"What part?" Although Anakin kept his head bowed, an air of defiance had once again filled his tone. "The part where Obi-Wan stood back and threw me to the gundarks? The part where the Council undermined the Chancellor's orders and made me look the fool? Or the part where Master Yoda's interrogation caused me to abandon my own _son_—"

"Start there," Luke interrupted. He didn't like the queasy feeling he had gotten when hearing what his father was intimating.

"Master Yoda knows..._something_. At least, I sensed that he did," Anakin replied haltingly. "He apparently felt the same disturbance that ultimately led me to finding you. Master Yoda suspects that I'm involved, too. He wasted no time interrogating me as soon as I stepped into the Council chamber. I could feel him probing the Force for answers. When he detected my link to your protection, I shattered the connection before he could trace it back to you."

"Did he make any accusations?"

"No." Anakin shook his head vehemently. "I thought he was satisfied when I told him that I could not provide any of the answers he sought—but evidently he wasn't. He brought up the subject again just before the end of the session." Anakin looked up, apprehension once again filtering into his eyes. "I need to get you out of here, Luke. I'm sorry. I thought you would be safe in the Temple, but you're not. Even if Master Yoda isn't planning on sending someone to investigate—or coming down here himself—then I'm sure that Obi-Wan will be showing up soon."

Luke narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his father. "Did something else happen between you and Obi-Wan?"

Anakin appeared to take offense as he stiffened in response to his son's question. But after a moment, he slumped his shoulders again and shrugged. "Let's just say that we didn't part on the best of terms. He is probably giving me some time to cool off, but I know that he will eventually come back here to find me. He mentioned that he needed to speak with me, and he never lets something like that go for long."

Luke could feel the truth in his father's words. He could also sense a growing need to be on the move. Luke rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I'm not looking forward to crawling around the air vents again," he grumbled.

"No, there's no time." Anakin shook his head. He looked intensely at his son. "How long can you continue to keep your presence hidden as you are now?"

"As long as I need to," Luke averred. "I already told you that I was fully capable of protecting myself."

"Yes, you did." Anakin ducked his head. "I'm... I'm sorry that I didn't believe you." He glanced up with a small smirk."I won't underestimate you again. I promise."

"Good. I'll get my things." Luke rose from the floor and headed off to the other room.

"Grab the extra shaving kit that I left out for you while you're in there," Anakin chided. "It looks like you didn't have a chance to use it yet."

Luke smirked at his father's jibe and resisted the urge to reply with a sarcastic retort. There was no sense in pushing the limits of this newfound truce. He brought a hand up to stroke his hair-covered chin and walked back into the bedroom.

Luke had originally grown his beard through necessity while deployed on a mission to Dagobah a few years after the destruction of the second Death Star. Four months of enduring the hardships of a primitive jungle camp while staging guerrilla attacks against the remnants of the Empire had left little time to think about the finer points of personal hygiene. When he had finally returned to civilization, Leia had made such a fuss over his roguish appearance that he had delayed shaving it off just to annoy her. The instant Mara had mentioned that it made him look dangerous and sexy, he had decided to keep it. That was over twenty years ago, and Luke had no intention of shaving it off now. True, it was a bit rebellious to willingly defy his father's wishes, but Luke knew that this type of obstinate behavior was something else that Anakin would need to learn to deal with on his eventual journey through fatherhood—he might as well get some practice up front.

Luke walked back over to the cot and picked up the dark brown cloak that he had hung over the foot of the bed-frame earlier. After shrugging it on, he smoothed out the impressions in the bed coverings to erase the evidence of his recent nap. He reached down next to the foot of the bed and picked up a worn tan haversack by one of the straps. It contained the clothes that he had borrowed from Tycen; Luke would need to get them back to him. Luke scanned the room once more, making sure that no evidence remained of his stay, and then he turned and walked back into the main room.

"Stang," Anakin commented with surprise. "I haven't seen that bag in years."

"It was tucked in the far corner under the cot," Luke explained. "I knew it had to be yours. It still had sand in the bottom of it."

"It was practically the only thing I owned when I first came to the Temple," Anakin said with a shrug. "Not much has changed much over the last thirteen years."

"Oh, I'm sure that there are a few differences."

Anakin glanced toward the main entrance of the apartment warily. The melancholy that had crept into his expression when he had mentioned his past quickly washed away to be replaced with a look of determination. "We really need to get out of here." Anakin stated as he looked back at his son.

"How?"

"Easy." Anakin proffered a confident lopsided grin."We walk out the front door. You at least look the part of a Jedi now, so if we go quickly, no one should question you."

Before Luke could voice opposition to his father's blatantly flawed plan, his stomach responded for him. The gurgling growl of hunger was loud enough for both men to notice. Luke cringed.

Anakin could not help but chuckle. "When was the last time you ate something?"

"You mean something other than that wonderful selection of ration bars that you handed me this morning?" Luke questioned.

"I don't think ration bars can ever be considered food," Anakin argued. "Unless you find yourself in the field and there is nothing else to eat but bugs...and even then, sometimes the bugs taste better," he conceded. "I meant a real meal."

"Food has been a rather low priority for me since I arrived—partially due to a lack of funds. I—ah, _______liberated_ a few pieces of fruit from the Nabooian Senatorial offices yesterday. I believe that just about covers it. I was really looking forward to that celebratory meal you promised me earlier. Too bad that won't be happening."

Anakin stood quietly for a moment. He then furrowed his brows as if in deep contemplation. A conspiratorial smile began to crease his lips as he narrowed his eyes to stare into the older man's face. "No," he answered with determination. "I see no reason to change that part of the plan."

Luke gave him a suspicious glance. "You still have something to celebrate?"

"Yes, of course I do," Anakin brandished a brilliant smile and straightened to full height. "I'm going to be a father! Who better to celebrate that blessing with than my own son?"

Luke could feel a distinct shift in the Force as Anakin's mood swung once again. "Ah, okay." Luke cocked his head warily. "And where are you planning on doing that?"

Anakin raised his hand and pointed at him. "I know a place..."

* * *

Darth Sidious scowled as he peered through fragmented strips of Kriin-wood. As his displeasure grew, his eyes glowed a brighter shade of yellow. Flecks of red could now be seen lining them. The wooden slats that hampered his view were actually forming the dark blinds that had been pulled down to cover the viewport that encompassed back wall of his office. They had effectively plunged the large room into unnatural shadow—despite the fact that it was not quite noon.

He was alone—finally—after taking hours to rid himself of that exacerbating Loyalist Committee. It wasn't his detractors that had given him difficulty when they had been urged to leave; they had been more than ready to do so once it became clear that none of their suggestions would be heeded. He smiled maliciously. It had become quite evident over the progression of this war that their tolerance for him had grown just as thin as what he felt toward them.

No, it was those sniveling sycophants that always seemed to give him trouble. Even though he had been the one who had personally appointed them to serve in his government, they were slowly turning into his bane. Although they were effective tools toward his ultimate goals, their desire to cling to their perceived source of advancement was annoying at best. If it was simply up to him, he would destroy them all. But it was still too early to distract himself with that pleasant fantasy.

The Sith pulled the darkness closer to him and attempted once more to resolve his current quandary. He stretched out icy tendrils of inquiry in a hunt for answers. He loathed puzzles. And this one was obstinately resisting being deciphered. The idea that the root of this problem was somehow tied to the disturbance he had felt a few days ago—the one he had thought he had resolved—was doggedly refusing to go away.

Sensing only the strong annoying presence of those sanctimonious Jedi caused him to end his search and pull back in frustration. Nothing—not a damned thing! How could the generator of this dilemma simply have vanished?

The instant he had sensed the flare within the Force, he had thought that it had come from the boy. That would have made sense. He had been anticipating some sort of eruption in response to whatever the Jedi had done to denigrate his decree. But what he had felt—although similar—was distinctly different from the boy's familiar signature. It was far too clean—too bright. Even in the brief moment that he had felt it, he could sense no threading of darkness woven within. It had taken years to instill that hidden darkness into the innermost crevasses of the boy's heart. He took great pride in his ability to cultivate those weaknesses in the boy's character, especially since they remained undetected to the Jedi even now. After that brilliant flash, he had worried that something had happened to unravel all of his hard work. But then, he had found the boy. He had checked again just a few moments ago and sensed him continuing to writhe amid a maelstrom of emotional distress. If he had more interest in the boy's current plight, he might have been inclined to investigate further. He was sure he would find it immensely entertaining.

But there were more important matters to attend to. And the boy could prove to be useful as well. After all, he was apparently close to the source. If given the proper motivation, he should be able to provide some answers...

Sidious waved a hand toward his massive desk. A light on his communication station immediately flashed to life.

"Yes, Chancellor?" came the automatic response from his unseen secretary.

"Clear my calendar for the rest of the day," he said, schooling his voice to sound the part of his kindly alter ego. "The only person that I want to see when he arrives is Knight Skywalker."

"B-but sir," the secretary stuttered. "I don't see that Knight Skywalker has an appoint—"

"He'll be here," Sidious snapped. "Send him in the moment he arrives."

The Sith cut the connection before the hapless secretary could respond. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to savor his anger. All he needed to do now was wait for the boy. He could do that... He was a patient man...extremely patient. In the meantime, he would occupy his time by contemplating creative methods to dispose of yet another incompetent aide…

* * *

Luke pulled the cowl of his borrowed dark brown cloak down lower over his face. His apprehension was growing with every step he took. Along with his anxiety, Luke could not dismiss the surreal feeling of the moment. He was actually walking through the halls Jedi Temple—_his_ _home_. And he was doing so with his father. Just a few days ago, he would have never believed that this situation could be possible.

His reverie caused him to lose focus and bump into the man next to him. He hazarded a glance at the cloaked form of his father and was thankful that Anakin seemed to have ignored Luke's accidental contact. The young Jedi had slipped back into the persona of the fearsome warrior that Luke had encountered in the tunnels below the Temple. Anakin exuded nothing but confidence and determination—a perfect image of the _Hero with no Fear_. Luke was beginning to understand why the propaganda manufacturers and HoloNet media had so highly touted his father's battlefield exploits.

Luke pulled his eyes away and scanned the empty hall in front of them. They had nearly reached the front of the Temple. Luke was keenly aware of their location and could also fairly well anticipate the route that Anakin planned to guide them through. It was not the most direct path to the main entrance by any means, but it was probably one of the least traveled. They had made it through the dormitories and were currently on the third floor of the main complex. They had effectively steered clear of the meditation chambers, classrooms, and the training salles. The only remaining populated area that they would need to traverse by was where they currently found themselves: the auxiliary hall that skirted one of the main hangar bays. From here, there would only be six more intersecting hallways and two sets of stairs before they reached the atrium and main foyer. Glancing behind him, Luke took hold of his cloak's neckline and tightened the fabric in his fist.

"Stop fidgeting," Anakin leaned over and admonished his son.

"What?" Luke squeaked hoarsely.

"The best way to not be detected is to act completely normal," his father hissed. "You should know that."

"Is that tip gleaned from your own experience?"

"In the field, yes," Anakin said derisively. "It generally doesn't matter how I act here in the Temple. The majority of Jedi tend to ignore me most of the time—no matter what I do. They treat me as if I was a carrier of the Blue Shadow virus."

"Why is that?"

Anakin's jaw clamped tighter. "It doesn't matter. We need to hurry."

Luke started to reach up for his cowl once more before Anakin's piercing sidelong glance stilled his hand. He folded his arms back into the sleeves of his cloak instead. The two men turned another corner and continued on their deliberate path.

Anakin, irrespective of his promise to no longer underestimate his son's abilities (and despite his son's admirable efforts in remaining invisible in the Force), was unable to stay entirely neutral. He had lowered his shields just enough so that his own presence glistened brightly in the Force. The feeling that it produced wasn't nearly as smothering and annoying as Anakin's earlier ministrations had been. In fact, the warm vibrations radiating from his father were somewhat comforting to Luke.

"Are you sure it's safe to come this way?" Luke whispered his concern.

"This is the only way," Anakin answered in a low voice.

"But won't the main hangar be occupied?"

"Not like it used to be," Anakin said, shaking his head. "Most of the Knights and Padawans who would usually be assigned here are fighting in the Outer Rim Sieges—or they are already one with the Force. The war has required the Order to rely heavily on droids to maintain and repair the ships that remain here. It's really rather ironic when you think of it."

"What do you mean?" Luke questioned.

"The Jedi risk their lives every day to fight the mechanized armies employed by the Separatists in this war, yet we must depend on our own army of droids to sustain us here in the Temple. It's a good thing that most of these droids incapable of independent thought or dissension. I wouldn't want to imagine what would happen to the Jedi if they could somehow revolt."

Luke's steps faltered for a moment as he glanced over at his father. The young man's words were a chilling portent of events that could soon transpire. Of course, it wasn't the droids who would rise up and essentially annihilate the Jedi, but the clones. And when that tragedy had occurred in the past of Luke's time, the operation to raze the Temple could very well have been led by the man striding next to him.

"What's wrong?" Anakin questioned as he gently touched Luke's elbow.

"Nothing," Luke said, vehemently shaking his head and searching for a change of subject."I…ah…I'm just wondering where the Council Masters may be."

"Master Yoda in preparing to leave for Kashyyyk in the morning," Anakin replied. "As I already told you, I'm sure that he's probably meeting with the other Masters to finalize those plans."

Luke furrowed his brow. "If the Council members are meeting, why aren't you there?"

"I'm not a Master, remember?" Anakin's face hardened as he bitterly uttered his explanation. "I was not invited to attend."

Luke looked away. Anakin had explained what transpired during the meeting as they traveled the vacant hallways of the Temple. As he did so, Luke had found himself growing surprisingly annoyed at the Council's actions towards his father. Despite knowing the Chancellor's true identity—and realizing that the entire episode had no doubt been orchestrated by the Sith to destabilize the Jedi—Luke could not prevent himself from feeling keenly offended by the way they had treated his father.

The two reached the end of another long hallway and turned the corner. They quickly walked past the open archway of the main hangar bay as they continued down their path. An abrupt shrill blast of electronic whistles and beeps caused both men to stop and turn around. Luke's eyes widened as he watched a blue-and-white astromech droid shoot out of the hangar entrance and hastily glide directly in front of his father. The little droid beeped, clicked, and whistled in a loud tirade of electronic chatter as his optic sensors scanned the two men.

"Keep it down, Artoo," Anakin frantically waved his hand toward the droid and tried to silence him. "You shouldn't be out here."

The droid apparently didn't care for the reprimand. His foray of beeps and whistles grew louder as he moved forward and bumped into the younger man.

"Okay, okay," Anakin apologized. "I'm sorry. I know I was supposed to meet you here last night, but something came up." He glanced over at Luke.

Undaunted, little droid continued its scolding.

"Artoo?" Luke questioned. "Is that really you?" Actually, he didn't even have to even ask—he had recognized the little droid instantly—although...the odds that he would have found him here seemed inconceivable. Luke hesitantly reached out to his little mechanical friend. In his amazed awe, he didn't take note of the small panel on the side of the droid's torso as it flipped open...or the metal appendage that instantly sprung out. He didn't take note of it, that was, until the electric pike charged up and _zapped_ him.

"Ow!" Luke jumped back shaking his hand to relieve the sting.

"Artoo, stop that!" Anakin was aghast. He turned to Luke. "Sorry, he gets a little protective around me sometimes."

Luke's feelings were far more hurt than his hand. But he still couldn't push down his overwhelming joy at seeing the little droid again. "That's Artoo, isn't it?" It wasn't until the words had spilled out of his mouth that he realized what an incredibly idiotic statement that had been.

"Of course it is," Anakin answered. "Who else would it be?"

"How long has he been here?"

"Padmé placed him in my keeping at the start of the war," Anakin answered. "He's been with me ever since."

"With _you_?" Luke turned back to the droid. "All this time..." He glared at the droid. "You were with him?" A flash of indignant anger clouded his senses. "You knew? You knew everything? ...And you never bothered to say a word?"

"What?" It was Anakin's turn to feel completely confused.

His father's dumbfounded question brought Luke hurtling back to the current situation. He closed his eyes and focused on releasing his growing ire. There was no reason for it. True, this was Artoo-Detoo standing in front of him, but the astromech was not the trusted buddy and confidant that he had known for nearly thirty years. This version of the little droid had yet to be assigned to an Alderaanian Royal Corvette, he had not been entrusted with the secret plans to the Imperial Death Star, and he had he never been sent in an escape pod to Tatooine—all the string of circumstances that had come together and precipitated their first meeting. Even assuming that Luke had not come back to correct the past and history would repeat itself, then those events would still not occur for another nineteen years.

"Luke?" Anakin questioned again. "What's going on?"

"Ah, nothing," Luke sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. "I...ah, I'm just happy to see him. I—he's been with me a long time, too. "

Anakin glared suspiciously at his son. The moment of tension ended as another caustically loud wail came from the impatient little droid.

"Calm down, Artoo," Anakin admonished the droid. "Yes, I know it's my fighter, but I don't have the time to work on her right now. Don't worry about re-sequencing the guidance system. Were you able to get the yellow paint?"

A short burst of whistles affirmed a positive answer.

"Wizard," Anakin said with a smile. "Start with that. I'll try to make it back here soon so that we can work on her systems together."

Artoo whistled and hooted a calmer reply.

"You're customizing a ship?"

"Have to," Anakin replied to Luke from over his shoulder. "I lost the _Azure Angel_ when the _Invisible Hand _broke up over Coruscant. I'm just thankful that Artoo wasn't near the hangar bay when that happened. Anyway, I was assigned a stock Delta 7 when I got back here." He grinned conspiratorially, "But you should know me well enough to know that I could never just fly a stock model of anything…"

"Of course," Luke agreed automatically. Actually, he had known nothing of the kind. But he could well appreciate what he would want to do in a similar situation. "I'd certainly like to see what you plan to do to her."

"That doesn't surprise me. I'll see what I can do." Anakin turned back to the astromech who had spun around and was twittering as he rolled down toward the hangar. "Artoo!"

The droid stopped, turned, and wheeled back to his master.

"This is Luke, Artoo," Anakin pointed to his son. He narrowed his glare at the little droid and pointed severely toward the astromech in warning. "You be nice to him from now on. Is that clear? I want you to obey his orders just as you would mine."

Luke smiled at the raspberry sound that emitted from Artoo in response. His expression changed immediately, however, when the stubby droid's tractor tread foot rolled unceremoniously over the top of his boot. Artoo's burst of electronic gibberish was clearly reminiscent of a devious chuckle. Obviously, the little droid's attitude had mellowed dramatically over the years. Luke could never remember Artoo being quite this rebellious. But for now, Luke knew exactly where he had gotten his feistiness from in the first place.

* * *

Obi-Wan stood pensively in the middle of the empty dormitory corridor. The memories of his last inauspicious visit to this location continued to lance uncomfortably through his brain. This was silly, he silently chastised himself. He shouldn't be this bothered. He had negotiated sensitive treaties between warring factions, coordinated planet-wide defense systems, and confronted legions of battle droids without a second thought. Worry over offending his ex-Padawan once again by relaying the Council's unprecedented directive should not be churning his insides into goo.

But it was... And Obi-Wan was painfully aware of the underlying reason why. Not only did he did not want to create another ruckus, but he also did not want to lose control over his _own _emotions again. And as loathe as he was to admit it, that situation was a distinct possibility. Dealing with Anakin of late was like tossing an ignited lightsaber into an oversized vat of liquid propellant. If he found himself contending with anything similar to their last encounter outside the Council chamber again—well, he just didn't trust himself to remain as calm as he needed to be.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and drew a deep lungful of air. Releasing it slowly through clenched teeth, he urged himself to step forward and reach toward the control panel next to the door... But instead of moving, he remained solidly planted to the floor. _That didn't work well, _he thought to himself. Maybe since he was apparently unwilling to walk back into that squalor that Anakin called an apartment, he should just send out a mental inquiry and have the boy meet him out here in the hall. But he really didn't relish the thought of that either. He especially didn't want to incite another confrontation with the young man similar to what had happened earlier. At least, not out here for public view.

Besides, he wasn't comfortable with using the Force at the moment. His own shields still felt rather tender and bruised from the surge of energy that had burst through the Force during the Council meeting. Whatever that flair—or, more specifically, _conflagration—_in the Force had been, Obi-Wan had become immediately convinced that his ex-Padawan had somehow been at the root of its cause. Thirteen years of close collaboration between the two of them had given the Jedi Master an acute awareness as to the feel of Anakin's Force signature—no matter how creative his Padawan could be in attempting to distort it. Obi-Wan had marveled at first at how Anakin had managed to manifest such a disruption and yet remain so outwardly unfazed. But then again, there was little that the young man could do when it came to his abilities with the Force that surprised him any longer—not after Anakin had brought the LiMerge headquarters building down around them on Tythe.

When nothing had been mentioned in regards to the anomalous incident during the remainder of the Council meeting, Obi-Wan had begun to believe that he had been the only one who have sensed the disturbance. Well—he and Master Yoda, that was. Despite over eight centuries of practiced Jedi indifference, the twitch of an ear and slight furrow of a brow had subtly indicated that the Grand Master had perceived the event as well. Obi-Wan had hoped to have a quiet discussion with Master Yoda concerning the event once the Council session had ended. But then it had been necessary to attempt to catch Anakin before he had the opportunity to storm off—not that that situation had gone well. When Obi-Wan had made his way back to the Council chamber, he had been taken aback by the animated discussion regarding the incident that had already commenced between the other Masters. Obviously, everyone else had felt it too and had come to the same conclusion as he had as to its source. Their apprehension over what to do about the situation was almost palpable.

It wasn't that he—personally—was afraid of whatever Anakin had done...Or that he was afraid of Anakin himself, for that matter. He trusted the young man with his life and had proven so time and time again over the course of this blasted war. It was more that he was afraid _for_ him—especially taking into account the negative fervor he had sensed from some of the Masters during their discussion. It was quite distressing to listen to many of their derisive comments. Several of their accusations regarding the young man he had raised from a child were most..._uncivilized_.

At least Master Yoda had managed to contain the situation before it had gotten completely out-of-hand. Although it had taken several raps of his walking stick and a plethora of stern looks, he had finally silenced the group and regained control. It still puzzled Obi-Wan as to why the Grand Master was so determined to deal with the event himself. He also could not understand why Master Yoda had been so adamant that the remainder of the Council were not to discuss or pursue the disturbance on their own. And that they were expected to caution any other curious Jedi from doing the same. That directive had not gone over well at all—Master Windu had looked positively put-out over the Grand Master's decision. Obi-Wan was sure that the discussion between the two leading members of the Council was most definitely not concluded.

Obi-Wan brought a hand up to his face to rub over his face. He was far more fatigued from the morning's events then he was willing to admit. All he wanted to do was deliver the Council's message and find a nice quiet spot to meditate. He could only hope that the delay caused by his impromptu meeting with the Masters (and the meandering path he had taken to get here) had given Anakin enough time to cool down.

With renewed resolve, Obi-Wan stepped forward and raised his hand to knock on the front door. But before he could reach it, the panel silently slid open. Anakin had obviously forgotten to set the locking mechanism this time. Clamping his jaw tightly, Obi-Wan cautiously stepped into the apartment. He strengthened his mental shield as he felt the residue of the young man's virulent emotions still churning tumultuously throughout the room.

"Anakin?" he questioned. "Anakin, are you in here?"

Obi-Wan frowned. Apparently, he had given the young man a little _too _much time. He folded his arms across his chest and glanced around the empty apartment. The condition of the room was far different than it had been this morning. Several of the tables had been upturned, their contents joined with the mess that had already been strewn over the floor. Junk was everywhere. The evidence that Anakin had thrown a major temper-tantrum was undeniable. Obi-Wan shook his head in dismay. What was he going to do with his Padawan—_ex-_Padawan, he corrected himself.

He glanced toward the middle of the room. At least there was one encouraging sign in the midst of all of the disarray. It was possible, although extremely unlikely, that once Anakin had exhausted his anger, he had finally decided to clean the place up. There _was _one clear spot. It hopefully constituted an indication of that scenario. Obi-Wan leaned down and picked up a wooden stool that had been tossed on its side. Placing it upright, he sat down upon it and refolded his arms. He had nowhere else to be at the moment. He would simply wait for Anakin to return._ Who knows,_ he thought hopefully, _maybe Anakin just left to go find a broom..._ Obi-Wan surveyed the room once more—then again, a shovel would be _much _more appropriate...


	24. Chapter 24 Blue Plate Special

_A/N #1: I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy. _

_A/N #2: This story would not be what it is without the help of my very competent beta reader, "Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu." Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated._

_A/N #3: So sorry for the delay in posting this chapter (again). I thought I had finished it weeks ago, but I kept feeling that something was missing. A minor tweak here and there soon turned into a major re-write. I am much happier with the end result now, and I hope you will be too. Please consider this chapter a very belated tribute to Father's Day...Star Wars Style... Enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter****24** **–****Blue Plate Special:**

"_Come on, Dad!" _

_He smiled. The boy's enthusiasm was infectious. With no motive_ _other than to stoke the boy's excitement, he slowed his steps with each corresponding tug of his hand as his son urged him onward. Ben was about to jump out of his skin._

"_Maybe this isn't the best idea," he drawled, as if having second thoughts. He schooled his features to reflect a solemn frown to enhance the effect. "It_ is _a crime scene after all. I'm sure that Master Hamner is very busy taking an inventory of the contraband. He probably doesn't need us underfoot."_

"_No!" Ben looked crestfallen. "You promised."_

"_Yes, I know," he acknowledged. It was taking considerable effort to keep his amusement from showing __on his face. "But your mother will skin me with her lightsaber when she finds out I took you out of your classes and brought you down here."_

"_But Mom's off planet. She'll never know about it," Ben reasoned._

"_Trust me, son," he replied dryly. "Your mother has her ways—"_

"_Please, Dad," the boy whined. "I won't touch anything—honest. I—I __just want to see the _Aethersprite_."_

"_Don't get your hopes up, Ben," he cautioned, "She's in pretty bad shape. There's not much left to her."_

"_I know. You already told me. But it's a real Jedi Starfighter. Please, can we just take a look?"_

_He could contain his mirth no longer and grinned broadly at his child. "All right, Ben. But just to look and not—"_

_He chuckled. There was no point in finishing the sentence. His son was no longer beside him. At his acquiescence, Ben had returned a brilliant smile, dropped his father's hand, and raced ahead down the street. He watched the boy's reckless progress as he snaked his way through the bustling crowd._

"_Don't get too_ _far ahead…"_

* * *

"Are you okay?"

"What?" Luke startled out of his reverie and glanced over to see concern in his father's partially concealed face.

Despite the warmth of day, both men had chosen to remain shrouded in their heavy cloaks—their need for anonymity superseding any desire for personal comfort. Thankfully, only a sparse number of other pedestrians had crossed their path as they made their way along the many raised walkway of the upper levels. No one had approached them or—for that matter—taken notice of their passing.

"Are you okay?" Anakin repeated. "You seemed to be light-years away."

"Yes, I'm fine." Luke answered, turning away as his features shadowed with melancholy. "I, ah… I was just thinking about the last time I was in this district."

It had just been a snippet of memory. A cherished outing spent between father and son—one of countless moments that had been woven into the fabric of a life he could no longer embrace.

After an extensive investigation, the Jedi had broken a smuggling ring that specialized in stolen Clone Wars memorabilia. The battered hull of the Delta-7 was not much to look at, but it had been a true treasure in the eyes of his son. Ben had been seven…

"I probably brought you here often."

"Huh?" Luke startled back to reality.

"Here—to CoCo town…" Anakin's brows creased as he appeared to measure his son's distracted response.

"I—um… Actually, the last time I was here, it was with my son," Luke explained.

"Ah," Anakin returned as he nodded his head. "So that's why you were grinning like a Kowakian monkey-lizard."

Luke pursed his lips as he focused on the ferrocrete walkway. He hadn't realized that he had been smiling. Ignoring his father's rather unflattering analogy, he chose to mull over Anakin's observation instead.

It was comforting to discover that thoughts of his son were once again bringing happiness to his heart. For far too long, reflecting on the past had only served to remind him of all that he had lost, and was accompanied with piercing anguish and near-debilitating remorse. Apparently, accepting this mission had at least allowed him to release some of his grief. He was thankful for that—if for no other reason—so that he could once again recognize the memories of time spent with his son as the blessings that they were.

Luke hazarded a glance at his companion. A pang of what he could best be described as unfulfilled longing snarled within his gut. He had no memories from his own youth to compare to the experiences he had shared with Ben. The irony of the current situation was not lost on him.

Feeling Luke's penetrating gaze, Anakin looked over at him. A hand on Luke's shoulder effectively brought both men to a halt. Luke turned to face his father in confusion.

"Luke, I didn't mean to upset you."

"Upset me?"

"The monkey thing," Anakin cringed. "I was only kidding..."

"I'm fine, really," Luke refuted.

"No, you're not," Anakin countered as he applied pressure to Luke's shoulder. "I can feel your discomfort. Tell me—what's wrong?"

"It's nothing," Luke quipped defensively. "I'm just hungry."

Not waiting for a response, Luke turned and stalked off. Realizing he must have let his some of his emotions slip through their newly established bond, he tightened down his mental shields. He would need to be more careful in the future.

It only took his father a few steps to catch up to him. Luke was thankful that Anakin was not pressing the issue further. They fell into an uncomfortable silence once again as they proceeded down the walkway.

Luke focused his thoughts on their surroundings. Much about Coruscant had changed over the past forty-plus years—no doubt due in large part to the varying rule of three political regimes...and a galactic civil war. But he had spotted enough familiar buildings since leaving the Temple that he was relatively sure about where they were. However, the differences in their current location from what he had known in his time were extensive. The shabby apartments and store-fronts that surrounded them had yet to be targeted by the New Republic's mandated revitalization programs; the artisan courts and cultural centers had yet to be organized and funded; and, most obviously, the ultra-modern Neo-Nebula Mega-Mall ("The Bright Spot of the Universe" as advertised on the HoloNet) was many years from being constructed. This might have been the Collective Commerce District—where Mara had dragged him on many a weekend shopping outing—but it was one he barely recognized.

Glancing to the left, Luke noted a large, smoldering pile of rubble amid a row of near-identical apartment houses. The twisted durasteel girders and broken ferrocrete blocks had probably stood as part of a similar structure just days ago. It was one of the many gutted and destroyed buildings on Coruscant that had been casualties of the recent planetary bombardment. He could see local security forces standing guard around the perimeter as more than a dozen rescue/retrieval droids continued to hover and scan their preprogrammed routes over the debris looking for victims. Luke could feel his father's mood darken as Anakin made a concerted effort to not view the blatant scene of devastation next to them.

"I had hoped that this damned war would never reach the Core," Anakin muttered. "I should have done more to prevent this."

His father's words were troubling. How could Anakin feel so responsible for a conflict that spanned the Galaxy?

"You're only one man," Luke counseled. "You can't expect to end a war of this magnitude by yourself."

"I can when it was my own folly that allowed it to start in the first place." Anakin lengthened his strides as they turned the corner and continued down another walkway.

"What do you mean?" Luke asked.

"If I had listened to my Master on Geonosis, Obi-Wan and I would have taken Count Dooku together and stopped this conflict before it began," Anakin spat. "Instead, I believed I knew better. I charged in to face a Sith Lord—heedlessly ill-prepared, fueled by my emotions, and fortified by blinding arrogance." He raised his gloved arm. "And in doing so, Dooku not only escaped, but I also managed to earn this as a permanent testament to my recklessness." Anakin huffed and gave his son a sidelong glance. "I hope, at least, that you have been wise enough throughout your own life to avoid doing anything so…foolish."

Luke remained silent and proceeded to concentrate on matching his father's ardent pace. He could not, however, keep his mind from forming images of a particular carbon freezing chamber located high above a distant Outer Rim planet. His prosthetic right hand clenched into a fist.

* * *

Sidious scowled as he continued to sit motionless in his darkened office. He looked down with disgust at the unappealing lunch that had been delivered to him a short while ago. Focusing his concentration, he watched the creamy broth curdle in the bowl before his eyes. The success of his minor mental manipulation did nothing to lessen his growing ire.

The Jedi were up to something. The old Sith was beginning to feel the flames of suspicion spark to life deep within the cold recesses of his blackened heart. Had Master Yoda discovered something regarding that strange disturbance from earlier this morning? And if so, would he have connected its source with the boy? His frown deepened. Could it be possible that, despite his best efforts, that little green troll had inadvertently stumbled upon a portent of what lay in the near future?

No, Sidious dismissed his musings with a shake of his head; none of those theories contained merit. He had planned too meticulously to allow any such thing to happen. He had scrutinized every possible contingency, formulated alternate strategies for any unexpected deviations...There was simply no possibility that the Council could suspect that the boy was being led to his—and ultimately—their own demise. If there were, then he would have foreseen it.

The Dark Lord leaned back and steepled his fingers against his wizened chin. The Jedi remained blissfully ignorant and virtually blind to their approaching fate. Indisputable evidence to that effect was carried in the message that had been delivered to him by the Council itself. Putrid yellow eyes glowed luminescent with amusement as Sidious once again recalled the gist of the information that he had received from the Jedi. He could not have hoped for a better turn of events. Not only had the Jedi quickly acquiesced to the demands of his decree, but their closed-minded arrogance had also fueled them to take retribution on the boy and deny him his desired rank of Master. The Sith realized that he would need to come up with an appropriate response expressing his utmost gratitude to send back to the Council. As he had anticipated, the Jedi had just managed to bring his future apprentice one step closer into his grasp.

Sidious glanced over to the remnants of a datapad that lay at the foot of the far wall. When intact, it had displayed the official response from the Jedi Council. The communiqué should have been hand-delivered by his newly appointed personal representative—but the boy remained suspiciously absent. To complicate matters, the Padawan messenger sent in his stead was woefully lacking in information as to the reason for his designated envoy's delay. Now, the broken shards of plastic mixed with a tangle of data chips and wires simply represented an extremely rare and altogether unsavory example of his ever-deepening foul mood.

Where was his newly appointed representative now? The Sith pondered. The boy should have been here long ago. There had been no reason for the Jedi to have retained him. They should have sent their newest Council member directly to the Senate to begin fulfilling his duties. The fact that there was no sensible explanation for the boy's inexcusable absence made it all the more irritating.

What was most disturbing was that the boy's mysterious disappearance had the earmarks of a complete lack of courtesy and utter disregard for the responsibilities that his new position on the Council would entail. It appeared to likely be nothing more than a rebellious act—much like that which Sidious had often encouraged him to display when focused against his Jedi Masters. However, he was far from amused now that the boy's immature tantrum had expanded in scope to include him.

With a great effort of restraint, Sidious slowly closed his eyes. Inhaling deeply, he employed his indomitable will to center himself and resurrect his highly valued trait of infinite patience. There was too much at stake to allow his tolerance to crack—no matter how thoroughly the boy was testing his resolve at the moment. There would be plenty of time in the future for lessons of obedience—once he had been secured as his apprentice.

Without opening his eyes, he focused his mind, and the display light flashed to life on his communications unit.

"There is a mess in my office," he growled. "Send for a cleaning droid."

"Yes, of course, sir," the tinny voice of the young girl who had been dispatched as a temporary replacement for his missing secretary answered. "I will call for one immediately."

* * *

With its rounded corners and brushed durasteel exterior walls, the aged diner that his father had led them to reminded Luke of an over-sized transit pod that had been embedded into the pedestrian level platform. The oblong building was tucked into the middle of the block and surrounded by much taller structures. The neighboring skyscrapers gave the impression of protectively shrouding the oddly-shaped little restaurant, as if guarding a precious gem. Large rectangular windows along the front of the diner allowed an abundance of natural light to warmly flood over worn upholstered booths and faded tile floors and countertops.

As they neared the entrance, Luke was inundated with comforting aromas of warmed cooking grease and freshly baked delicacies. His mouth immediately began to water in anticipation of their upcoming lunch. The flavorful smells were a painful reminder of just how long he had gone without a decent meal. In fact, his hunger was so great that he would consider eating just about anything. He might even settle for frozen tauntaun at this point—despite how badly they tended to smell on the outside.

From Anakin's initial expression, it was apparent that he had anticipated Luke to recognize the place. Instead—much Anakin's to unmistakable annoyance—Luke had managed to disguise his lack of familiarity by feigning a convincing act of Jedi indifference. Even so, his ploy had nearly shattered when meeting the diner's gregarious owner. Luke had been hard pressed to not take a wary step back when the boisterous Besalisk rushed out of the kitchen to meet them as soon as they had walked through the door. He had actually been quite relived for his own anonymity—it had undoubtedly saved him from a bone-crushing hug similar to what Anakin had received.

Luke could empathize with his father. Dexter Jettster's enthusiasm reminded him of many an overly exuberant reunion with Chewbacca—just with a lot less hair. Still, Anakin had dealt with Dex's greeting remarkably well. He had not only handled the physical interaction, but he had also calmly shrugged off Dex's pressing inquiries as to the whereabouts of Master Kenobi. Apparently, from the way the Besalisk talked, Dex had known Obi-Wan far longer than he knew Anakin.

His father took the lead in ushering them through the narrow aisle to an empty booth in the back corner of the diner. Anakin quickly slipped into the cushioned bench against the solid wall before his son had a chance to do so. Luke frowned and felt decidedly uncomfortable as he realized that the seating arrangement would have his back to the entry. Either by training or instinct, the desire to keep a sharp eye on their surroundings was apparently another personality trait that father and son shared.

Knowing that there was no valid reason to remain standing awkwardly in the aisle, Luke tamped down his annoyance and gave a cursory glance over his shoulder before sliding into the opposite side of the booth. His curious scan identified a pair of Bothans and a Sullustan entering through the front door. Dex's clientele was certainly diverse. Considering the time of day, it probably wouldn't take long for the little restaurant to fill to capacity.

"We don't have much time," his father informed him. "But it shouldn't be a problem. Service around here is generally pretty quick."

"Where are you planning to go after we leave?" Luke asked as he settled himself comfortably into his seat.

"The Senate," Anakin answered.

"The Senate?" Luke repeated with surprise.

"Well, more specifically, the administration offices below the rotunda," Anakin explained. "Despite the Council's punitive retaliation, I _was _appointed as the Palpatine's personal representative. I need to report in with the Chancellor—"

"The _Chancellor_?" Luke interrupted. He could feel his anxiety level spike viciously as, in turn, his stomach seemed to plummet straight to the floor.

"_Shh,"_ his father hissed. "Don't broadcast our itinerary to the entire restaurant. You never know who might be listening."

"_Our _itinerary," Luke echoed. His father's ridiculous reprimand re-lit the irritation that Luke had fought to suppress earlier.

Luke clamped his jaw tightly and closed his eyes. Inhaling deeply, he realized that he needed to take a moment and reign in his heightening frustration. Although he felt much more rested and resilient after his mid-morning nap, he figured that if he was pushed far enough, his emotions could still get the better of him.

Unfortunately, his efforts for control were being hampered significantly by the disconcerting vibrations of the bench on which he sat. Opening his eyes, he shifted to glance over his shoulder to see an Omwati family settling into the booth behind them. Two rather lively younglings were giggling furiously and enthusiastically bouncing on the booth cushion directly behind him while their mother struggled to place a third child into a hovering high-chair at the end of their table. The youngest member of her riotous brood was being very uncooperative and was currently in the midst of throwing quite an impressive temper tantrum. The poor woman's usually pale blue skin had flushed to deep violet in embarrassment.

Luke offered the clearly exasperated mother a sympathetic smile before turning back. He noted with a twinge of cynicism that Anakin's concerns for privacy were completely unwarranted. His father had no need to worry about their conversation being overheard. The Omwati toddler's piercing wails were doing a fine job of overpowering most of the other commotion in the restaurant.

"And what have you planned for _my_ part of 'our itinerary' while you are with you are with the Chancellor?" Luke asked evenly.

Anakin leaned back into the cushioned booth. "I thought that you could come with me to meet him."

"_Meet him?" _Luke realized that he was sounding like a broken holo-recorder. Repeating the last part of every sentence was starting to annoy even him. If the sour expression on Anakin's face was any indication, then he was having a similar reaction.

"Well, yes," Anakin replied with a shrug, "not officially, of course."

"Not _offic_—" Luke cringed and bit back his words in an attempt to break the frustrating habit he had fallen into. Although he was still holding out a slim hope that this ridiculous conversation was rooted in some daft display of his father's wretched sense of humor—warped as it might be—Luke could feel nothing of a lighthearted nature through their familial bond. No, Anakin was completely serious in his absurd intentions.

Luke closed his eyes and took another deep breath. He brought up a hand to rub over his eyes as he reached further into the Force in an attempt to latch onto the last tattered sinew of his control. A second long exhalation gave him a fragile sense of restored calm. Opening his eyes and viewing Anakin's nonplussed expression caused his tenuous restraint to instantly skitter away.

"Are you_ crazy__?" _

Luke's incredulous response shocked himself nearly as much as it had his father. He was supposed to be gaining Anakin's confidence, not insulting him. Luke forcefully clamped his mouth shut before he could do more damage and kept his eyes trained on the cold expression hardening on the youthful face across from him. He watched in dread as Anakin's eyes narrowed in anger and he slowly leaned forward.

"I am no more _'crazy,' _as you put it, than sitting across from a son twice my age would make me," his father glowered with deathly calm. Although the words had been barely audible, the strained tone of his father's voice was exponentially magnified through the Force.

Luke felt himself sinking down in his seat as Anakin brought up his fist to hover over the table. His father's shaky finger pointing menacingly in his face made him wince. _This is not going to be good. _

A flash of movement in the aisle next to them caused both men to conscientiously straighten in their seats. An older-model service droid rolled briskly up to their table. The limitations of her primary programming made her completely oblivious to the tense situation that her timely appearance had interrupted. The mechanical waitress swiveled an expressionless face between both men and appraised them with glowing golden eyes.

"So, what can I get you fellas?" she chimed with a distinctive Eastside Corellian accent.

"Um," Luke hesitated. "Could I please see a menu?"

"There's no need for that," Anakin snapped. Ignoring Luke's clearly irritated expression; he turned his attention to the red and silver droid. "Just bring us two of the daily specials."

"Two daily specials?" the waitress parroted. "Well, then, you boys certainly better be hungry."

"Ah, come on, FLO," Anakin jested with the droid. "In all the years that you have known me, has that ever been a problem before?"

"There's always a first time for everything," the service droid answered flippantly. With a tinkling of mechanical laughter, their waitress whirled around on her single wheel and scurried down the aisle toward the kitchen. Her quick departure allowed the awkward atmosphere to descend between the two men once more.

"You know," Luke sighed audibly, "I am fully capable of ordering my own lunch."

"Apparently not," Anakin shot back, "especially if you have to ask for a menu."

"What?" He couldn't believe his father's condescending attitude—this time over something as simple as what they were about to eat. Couldn't they get along for any more than five minutes at a time? "What is so wrong about asking for a menu?"

"If we were anywhere else, then nothing would be wrong with it." Anakin leaned forward and pointed accusingly at his son. "But this is Dex's. You should know better. Whatever he chooses as a special will be the best meal of the day."

Luke pushed aside the dark desire to grab onto that infernal gloved finger and… Instead, he concentrated on keeping his voice calm and low.

"Maybe I would have just liked to have the opportunity to make my own decision."

"You already made use of that 'opportunity' when you went against my wishes and refused to shave off that beard," Anakin snarled blackly.

"My beard?" Luke was aghast. Why was this man so obsessed with facial hair? "In case you have forgotten—again—I am a grown man, Anakin. You can't keep treating me like an unruly child."

"I can when you behave like one." Anakin gave his son a harsh glare. "Stop overreacting," he ordered.

"Then stop being so _frinking_ overbearing!"

"Anakin, my boy," Dex's voice boomed through the diner, causing both men to jump in response. "I was hoping that you might do me a favor."

Luke twisted around in his seat to see the large Besalisk awkwardly slide through the narrow opening of the diner's front counter and make his way down the long tiled aisleway. He was holding something in two of his large meaty hands that Luke could not identify. A third hand was hoisting up the back of his trousers while the fourth was scratching the top of his ridged brow.

"Of course, Dex," Anakin answered cordially. "What can I do for you?"

Luke turned back just in time catch his father's stern look of warning proffered in his direction. Taking full advantage of the unexpected interruption, Luke brought a hand up to rub over tired eyes. Exhaling the breath he had not realized he was holding, he silently thanked the Force for the gregarious Besalisk's excellent timing.

As Dex arrived at their booth, he set down two frosty glasses of thick red liquid in front of the Jedi. Luke immediately recognized the brew by sight as well as by its tangy aroma. He bit his lower lip in an attempt to hold back his surprise at seeing such a concoction here, of all places.

"Ruby bliels?" Anakin raised an eyebrow. "_By the Force, _Dex! How did you ever manage to come up with this?"

"Oh, I've been playing around with a few recipes," Dex chuckled, "working from memory, mostly. Just wanted an expert opinion as to how close I've managed to come with this one."

"It's been a long time since I had one of these," Anakin acknowledged. "I'm not sure that I even know how they should taste anymore."

"Maybe so," The Besalisk smiled warmly. "But I trust your opinion all the same."

Anakin nodded and took a long sip through the narrow opaque straw. He closed his eyes as he let the icy creation slide down his throat. He smiled. "Well... It's a lot colder than I remember...but just as delicious." He looked back up at the gregarious cook. "You've outdone yourself again, my friend."

"Just what I wanted to hear!" Dex's rumbling laughter filled the busy diner. Dex leaned forward over the table. "And as you know, flattery will get you a free meal here every time—for your friend, too," he conspiratorially whispered. The flattered Besalisk clapped both men on their shoulders as he turned and lumbered back toward the kitchen.

"One of the reasons I always come back here," Anakin returned in a hushed voice as he winked at his son. "Go ahead and try it, Luke. It's far too sweet to be healthy, but it doesn't hurt to live on the edge every once and a while."

For a few moments, all Luke could do was to sit in a dumbfounded stupor and stare. Was this the same man sitting across the table from him who he had just been arguing with about beards and lunch menus? He blinked several times in disbelief as he ran a hand through his shaggy locks. Anakin's diametrically opposed mood swings were starting to make him dizzy.

Appearing to grow impatient with his son's immobility, Anakin nodded toward the Ruby bliel sitting in front of his son. His father lifted his own glass and held it out over the middle of the table in preparation of offering a toast. Luke complied and picked up his glass. He tentatively moved it forward as he was apparently expected to do.

"To the only decent thing to have ever been created on Tatooine," Anakin saluted.

Luke nearly bit his tongue in two as he realized that the perfect opportunity for a little payback had just presented itself.

"Are you including yourself in that statement?" he asked with a deadpan expression. He clinked his glass against his father's.

Luke knew that his snarky comment had been totally impertinent and completely disrespectful..._Leia would have been proud_. Adding to his growing satisfaction was the perplexed expression that had washed over his father's face. It was priceless. Anakin had been left completely stupefied. However, Luke had to admit that his father's shock was not nearly as impressive as when he had tossed him over his shoulder earlier...

Recovering quickly, Anakin narrowed his eyes and delivered a piercing glare. "Very funny, _Son._"

"I thought so, too," Luke flippantly replied. Pulling the frosty glass back to himself, Luke smirked and ignored any further reaction from his father by purposefully avoiding eye contact. Taking a long, refreshing sip of the icy drink, he closed his eyes and savored the delightfully sweet taste.

Shaking his head and huffing in disbelief, Anakin leaned back and did the same. Both men fell quiet as they each relished the flavorful drink and the memories that came with it.

"I remember many an afternoon," Anakin finally broke the heady silence, "when I would manage to slip away from Watto's shop. I would run off to sit near an open doorway of one of the local cantinas and listen to the stories that the deep-space pilots would tell. Just by hearing them talk, I could imagine that one day I would be able to have similar adventures of my own. Every once in a while, one of the spacers would notice me and toss a few wupiupi my way. The coins would burn in my hand as I raced to the marketplace to exchange them for one of these."

"Uncle Owen never like me having them," Luke reminisced. "He said that all they were good for was to rot out your teeth. Of course, I never could see it that way. Nearly every time we would make it into Anchorhead, I would constantly whine and fuss to Aunt Beru until she would finally break down and buy me one."

"Owen...and Beru...Lars?" Anakin questioned in a strangled tone. "They...married?"

Luke could feel Anakin's instantaneous emotional withdraw. The sharp sensation nearly made him choke. Looking up cautiously, Luke was met by his father's hardening features and a growing ominous stare. The suddenly contrite Jedi Master dropped his eyes and directed his full attention to the drink held between his hands. He could have kicked himself. He had blindly let down his guard and jumped headfirst into another looming disaster. Luke wasn't sure how reminiscing about a simple childhood treat could have triggered such a monumental reaction, but it had. The intense negativity of Anakin's riotous emotions may not have made sense to Luke, but the damning consequences of not immediately correcting this situation did.

_Kriff! How could I __have been so stupid?_ Luke's self-recrimination thundered through his mind.

An oppressive silence engulfed him and his father. The sounds of screaming younglings and clattering dishes dissipated into a swirling gray morass. The entire universe seemed to narrow its focus down to contain just the two of them. Luke swallowed thickly. There was no more time to stall. Bracing himself for the anticipated explosion from across the table, he gathered his thoughts, took one last deep breath, and slowly exhaled through clenched teeth.

"Yes," Luke answered warily.

Anakin's jaw tightened. The straining muscles in his cheeks were clearly visible. "You knew them?" the younger Jedi asked with chilling seriousness. "And...you visited them…on Tatooine?"

"Of course I did," Luke responded carefully. His mind raced through long-forgotten memories of his childhood. Hopefully, he could try and alleviate his father's tension by appealing to his family roots. "Why wouldn't I? Owen is your step-brother, after all."

Anakin's eyes darkened as his anger grew. "I vowed to never return to that—_planet_—well over three years ago," he spat. "There is nothing in this galaxy that would make me change my mind. Neither your mother nor I would have ever allowed you to visit that dust ball... Who took you there?"

_Sithspit! _Luke silently cursed. _It would have been nice if someone had __mentioned that to me before now..._

Luke forced himself to swallow, although his throat and mouth had become painfully dry. There was no way that he was going to volunteer a response to his father's volatile question, even if had known the answer. After discovering his and Leia's well-hidden heritage, Luke had come to suspect that old Ben had not only watched over and protected him from Darth Vader and the Emperor during his youth, but that he had also actually brought him to his guardians in the first place. That little tidbit of information would not go over well at all right at the moment—if it ever would.

Luke knew that what he needed most urgently right now was a diversion. He doubted that he could count on another fortuitous interruption from the diner's staff, either. No, he had gotten himself into this mess; it would be up to him to get out of it—somehow…

"Tatooine isn't _that _bad..." Luke avoided answering his father's loaded question by changing the subject completely. Still, he couldn't help but cringe at the absurdity of his own words. "Except for the sand...and the heat...and the windstorms...and the sand…and the Tuskens...and the isolation...and the complete lack of anything interesting to do..." He hesitated for a moment, realizing that his droning criticisms were not helping the situation. "...And the sand," he finished lamely.

At the continuation of Luke's incredibly asinine commentary, Anakin had leaned forward to drop his head into his hands. With his elbows resting on the table, his face hidden, and his breathing long and measured, the young Knight appeared to be virtually vibrating with frustration. The sight of Anakin attempting to release his negitive emotions before he could do something thoroughly regrettable caused Luke to close his own eyes and do the same.

"I always hated the sand the worst, as well," Anakin bemoaned hollowly. "It's coarse and rough and irritating..."

"...and it gets everywhere," Luke finished the thought with a snort. At their shared sentiment, both of them looked up to stare into near-identical eyes from across the table. The realization of that similarity between them helped to ignite an idea in Luke's mind. He was too desperate at this point not to grab onto it. Tipping his head wryly, he forced the beginnings of a conspiratorial grin to form on his lips. "But there was also Beggar's Canyon."

"Beggar's Canyon?" Anakin blinked. His son's comment had taken him completely off guard.

"There's no better place to hone one's piloting skills," Luke leaned forward and explained. "It's dangerous to maneuver, treacherous to navigate...and you never know what you might find around the next bend."

Luke was hoping that this talk of speed and danger would be the distraction he so urgently needed. The memory of the many racing magazines hidden beneath his father's cot was his only glimmer of hope to sustain faith in his plan. From the look of curiosity beginning to bloom over the younger man's features, it seemed to be working.

"You...raced pods?"

From the skeptical tone of Anakin's voice, Luke had the distinct impression that his father would have never allowed him to do so.

"No," Luke answered truthfully. "Just speeders and swoop bikes...and an old skyhopper."

Although the suspicious glint in Anakin's eyes remained, he appeared to relax slightly as he leaned back into the cushioned backrest. Luke's confidence was slowly growing.

"In fact," Luke continued, "if it wasn't for my time spent targeting womp rats in that old T-16, I would have never succeeded in my first solo mission."

After a few moments of heavy silence, Anakin finally asked: "And how would that experience have been helpful?"

_I have you now, _Luke thought. He smiled. Despite knowing that he would be permanently skewing the future by disclosing this episode from his past, he was more than willing do so. Especially if it meant that he could use his old war story to strengthen the connection between him and his father. Besides, there was little doubt left in Luke's mind that most of the events he remembered would not occur in whatever future was to come. Too much information had already been revealed for that to ever happen.

"Well," Luke chose his words carefully, "there was this incredibly large mobile battle station called the Death Star—"

"_Death Star_?" Anakin quipped as he raised an eyebrow. "That sounds ominous."

"Believe me, it was," Luke confirmed. "The station itself was the size of a small moon, and it held enough firepower to destroy a planet. The enemy had already proven that they were more than willing to use it—"

"Wait," Anakin interrupted. Apparently, Luke had utterly captured his attention. "Are you telling me that this..._weapon_... had actually been used?"

"Yes, it had," Luke stated. "And their next target was to be the moon that housed our base."

"Where was the Republic's fleet?" his father asked. "I would think that they would have been dispatched to deal with this—technological terror."

"It wouldn't have helped. The Death Star was built to withstand any large scale attack. Our only hope was to initiate an offensive using the base's small fleet of one-man fighters. The designers never gave that tactic any serious consideration. Besides, the station's only weakness was a two-meter-wide thermal exhaust port that led directly down to the reactor—and even that was ray-shielded."

"So what did you do?" Anakin asked as he shifted to lean over the table.

"I had to fly, full throttle, down the heavily fortified equatorial trench and hit the port with proton torpedoes. Only a precise strike would work. By the time I reached the target, the station had already come into range of the moon where our base was located. I only had one chance to make the shot."

"You succeeded?"

"Yes," Luke confirmed as he pushed his back into the booth cushion, "with the help of the Force." He was very pleased to see the look of amazement—and possibly a hint of pride—reflected back to him from his father's face.

But before Luke could draw another breath, he watched as the expression on the young man's face changed. Anakin appeared to visibly pale. His eyes widened for a moment as if in utter disbelief and then narrowed to slits. His features screwed into an unreadable mask as he leaned forward over the table.

"And where was I during this..._battle?_" Anakin questioned. Although the words were softly spoken, suspicion was dripping from his cold voice.

Knowing his father's overprotective nature, Luke was beginning to think that Anakin was wondering how in _Sith hell_ he would have ever have allowed his son to engage in such an insanely reckless exploit.

But Luke just leaned back further into the synth-leather booth as a mischievous glint entered his own eyes. "Actually," he smirked, "for most of my run, you were right behind me..."


	25. Chapter 25 Jedi MIA

_**A/N #1:** I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy._

_**A/N #2: **This story would not be what it is without the help of my very competent beta reader, "Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu." Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions and patience are truly appreciated._

**___A/N #3: _**_I am still recovering from my amazement at receiving fifty-six reviews for the last chapter! Although I generally respond individually to all signed reviews, it would take more time then I can afford at the moment to do so and hold up this posting even further. Let me just say THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, to everyone who took the time to send me their thoughts. They went a long way in helping me get through some very difficult times. I hope that you are all still out there and will enjoy this next installment. I will try to do better and respond individually in the future if you choose to review again._

_****__A/N #4: _I know that it has seems like half past forever since I posted the last chapter. I could go on about all the reasons for my absence, but it would take quite a bit of space, and I am hoping that you would all prefer to read the next chapter rather than a laundry list of excuses. Let me just say that I am very, very sorry for the delay. I hope that your interest remains and that you will continue to enjoy the story. Although I can't guarantee anything, I am hoping that the next several chapters (that are very close to being done) will be posted on a much more regular basis.

_**A/N #5: **In an attempt to divert the possibility of any flaming arrows, I thought I better clear up another inconsistency with the EU that will quickly make its presence known. Although a new official SW character will make an appearance in this chapter, the man's personal history has been tweaked just a bit to fit into this story. The exact details of what has changed are not at all relevant; let's just say that he mysteriously managed to survive his officially reported demise and has continued to excel these many years in his brutal, mercenary ways._

_Now, finally..._**_ On with the story!_**

**_

* * *

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**Chapter 25 – Jedi M.I.A:**

_"So, what's the job?" _

Sidious narrowed his eyes in response to the man's deplorable lack of respect. Of course, the recipient of his ire could not truly appreciate the profundity of his murderous glare. From the bounty hunter's perspective, only the hooded silhouette of his well-paying employer was visible through the holo transmission. Leaning back in his chair, the Sith Lord scrutinized the flickering image of the white-haired Mandalorian as it hovered over the small hyperwave transceiver held in the palm of his hand.

Experienced, pitiless, and cunning… the muscle-bound mercenary was every bit as dangerous as he appeared. Montross had flourished in his chosen profession for a very long time. If anything, his advancing age had only made him all the more pernicious. The Mandelorian's lethal reputation had been honed over the years by his rather nasty habit of brutalizing and dispatching most of his bounties before bothering to bring them in. Discretion and tact had never been his stronger points—neither was restraint. But then again, if the man had possessed even a modicum of decorum, he would never have survived that unfortunate incident on Bogden. It was almost a pity, really, that Tyranus had favored the man's rival over a decade ago. The prospect of an army created from this man would have been glorious…

"You are to locate a Jedi," Sidious ordered.

_"You want me to infiltrate the Jedi Temple?"_

"That will not be necessary," Sidious answered with a derisive growl. "He is not there."

"_It's a big galaxy out there," _Montross grumbled impatiently. _"Got any idea where your guy was last assigned?"_

The Dark Lord's frown deepened at the bounty hunter's uncouth demeanor. "You need not travel far," Sidious informed the mercenary. "The man remains on Coruscant––although his exact whereabouts are currently unknown. I want that situation rectified immediately."

_"Who's the target?" _the burly man asked.

"Skywalker," Sidious hissed.

The Dark Lord took perverse pleasure in watching the Bounty Hunter's unsettled reaction to the name. A slight widening of his eyes and a near-imperceptible shift of his large frame might have been the only outward indications of the Mandelorian's discomfort, but the Sith could feel the man's spike of anxiety clearly radiating through the Force—even from this distance.

_"What should I do when I find him?"_

"Nothing," Sidious snapped. "Simply observe and report back to me." He leaned forward and tipped his head so that Montross could observe the depth of his malevolence transmitted through venomous yellow eyes. "Do I make myself clear, bounty hunter?"

Seeing Montross avert his eyes and look away uncomfortably was enough confirmation to know that his message had been received. Although Montross' brute strength and single-minded determination were daunting, it was the mercenary's intelligence that continued to please the Sith Lord the most. The man was far from simple-minded, although his thoughts were rather uncomplicated and easily read. Beyond an innate concern for self-preservation, Montross was fueled only by equally matched desires for avarice and power. It made an interesting combination, and it was one that proved the man extremely useful. The Mandalorian turned back to face the Dark Lord, a fierce glint apparent in his tight features.

_"As you wish, My Lord," _Montross averred. He rapped a clinched fist onto his armored chest to denote his pledge. _"Expect to hear from me soon."_

The Mandalorian Code made Montross honor-bound to fulfill his mandate. Equally assuring, Sidious knew that the mercenary was astute enough to know better than to try to cross his employer—especially when working for the Sith Master. Although he would never be as polished as Jango Fett, his predecessor, Montross was more than capable of handling an assignment as delicate as this.

The flickering image winked out of existence. Sidious swiveled his over-sized chair away from his desk so that he could once again look out through the blinds covering the transparisteel window that made up the back wall of his office. He pocketed the small transceiver back into his voluminous robes, content in the knowledge that its encrypted signal was completely untraceable. Sidious' roiling ire was scarcely restrained as he ruminated on his newly appointed emissary's continuing truancy. The niggling concern regarding the cause of the boy's absence would not leave him. It was past the time to take action. If he could not receive the answers he sought from his future apprentice, then he would employ extraneous measures to discover that information he craved. He _would_ discover the reason behind the boy's insufferable delay...

* * *

"…so when the dust finally cleared, I looked behind me—and, well—Obi-Wan was no longer on the ledge," Anakin said with a slight grimace. He paused deliberately to heighten the suspense reflected in his son's face.

"What happened to him?" Luke urged, leaning forward and thereby confirming his rapt attention.

"Apparently, he had gotten caught in the debris flow during the rock slide and lost his footing," Anakin answered. He shook his head and bit his lower lip as he recalled the memory. "At least he didn't fall too far. I found him about twenty meters below lying unconscious in a nest of gundarks."

"_Gundarks?"_ Luke yelped in surprise.

"There were only three of them—and they were just babies—they barely had their eyes opened," Anakin quickly assured him with a devious smirk. "Besides, I rescued him. Right after he woke up to discover where he was. Obi-Wan was so appreciative that he didn't even lecture me about not paying attention to the map and leading us down the wrong path in the first place."

"I can't believe that you would—"

"Hey," Anakin interrupted, waggling a finger at his son. "Don't you dare say anything about being too reckless, Mister 'Jump-Head-First-Down-A-Garbage-Chute'!"

"Okay, fine." Luke shook his head and raised his hands in mock surrender. "But just for the record," he said, pointing back at his father," I never took a flying leap out of a penthouse window, either—intentionally, that is…"

"Well, for the record, neither have I," Anakin defended. "Obi-Wan crashed through that window in pursuit of an assassin remote before I could stop him." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I just jumped out of the speeder after rescuing him."

"I stand corrected." Luke nodded with a grin. "Okay, let's see..." Luke began to tally using his fingers."Vanqor, Geonosis, Felucia… How many times have you saved Obi-Wan's life?"

"Including carrying him on my back while rescuing the Chancellor?" Anakin looked up and focused on an ambiguous stain on the ceiling as he mentally calculated the score. Once he was done, he looked back at his son. "That makes ten," he replied emphatically. "And I don't care what Obi-Wan claims, Cato Neimoidia counts!"

Luke chuckled and leaned back into the booth. His attempt to distract Anakin's attention away from his time spent on Tatooine had succeeded far better than he could have hoped. In fact, he had also apparently managed to divert his father from his ridiculous plan to have him meet Palpatine.

After detailing his exploits over Yavin IV, his father had seemed compelled to reciprocate. The ensuing conversation was both lively and enlightening—although Luke had a niggling suspicion that he might come to regret confessing to some of his less than glorious exploits.

Luke had learned so much about his father over the course of their meal together. Anakin Skywalker was truly an amazing man. What Luke would have given to have grown up under his guidance... Their time spent together only affirmed Luke's resolute determination to prevent his father's imminent doom—although he was still bewildered as to how the good man sitting across from him could possibly turn into the scourge of the Galaxy.

It was encouraging to Luke that he could sense a change in his father's demeanor as they continued to talk. The man had finally seemed to relax and grow comfortable with Luke's presence. There was an indefinable warmth now emanating from within the young Jedi where before had been only deep-seated apprehension. Luke's heart had swelled when he had first sensed his father extending tenuous strands of trust in his direction. He had reciprocated immediately. Together, they were slowly weaving together a relationship... One that—until now—had never had an opportunity to form. He silently vowed to do whatever necessary to nourish and strengthen this fragile rapport, but he could not suppress a wary feeling that another confrontation was just around the corner. Force only knew what would set his volatile father off next.

An awkward shift of the padded booth cushion behind him and feather-light rush of air next to his ear caused Luke to pull out of his reverie to return to the present. He turned to the side to be confronted by two large, almond-shaped indigo eyes set in a cherubic face hovering over the top of the booth. He could not help but smile at the sight of the precocious youngling.

"Hello, there." His greeting was met with a mischievous glint in the child's eyes and a flurry of impish giggles.

"Marish," the boy's mother admonished. "Stop bothering those nice men. It's time to leave." The harried Omwati woman appeared thoroughly embarrassed as she looked up toward Luke. "I am so sorry..." Her apology was cut short as the little boy jumped out of the booth and scurried away toward the front door. "Marish, wait for Mommy!"

"Not to worry," Luke returned. "I see you have your hands full." He wasn't sure if the woman had even heard him. She had already shifted her youngest onto one hip, grabbed her bags and the hand of her small daughter, and rushed away to catch her wayward son.

Luke's smile broadened as he shook his head in wonderment. Raising one overly-exuberant child had been enough of a challenge for him and Mara. He couldn't imagine dealing with three. Turning back, his smile seeped away as he noted that Anakin's demeanor had mysteriously become pensive. His father had slumped down into his seat and was distractedly pulling at the slightly frayed edge of one of his sleeve. He seemed to be totally oblivious to the scene that had just played out around him.

"What's wrong?" Luke asked quietly.

"Nothing," Anakin mumbled as he kept his eyes averted while he concentrated on his handiwork

Luke leaned forward and braced his forearms on the table. He wasn't going to let his father off that easily.

Feeling the older man's scrutiny, Anakin shifted nervously. "I said it was nothing," he shot back, this time with a quick glance of annoyance. "At least, not something for you to be concerned about."

Luke did not move. He continued to watch the fidgeting young Knight with piercing cerulean eyes as he awaited a better explanation. It still did not come.

Luke was suddenly struck by how Anakin's obstinance reminded him of the silent hours spent across from his lost nephew after Corellia. The memory was sobering. In deference for both of their losses, Luke hadn't pushed Jacen hard enough to decipher his sullen moodiness. His failure would remain one of the deepest regrets of his life. He would not make a similar mistake now—he couldn't afford to.

Using a mastery of skill he was sure that Anakin was still unaware he had, Luke took a slow, measured breath and carefully extended his thoughts. He cautiously threaded his way along their fledgling familial bond and deftly slipped through the younger Jedi's wavering mental shields. Within moments, Luke found himself privy to the agitated currents of emotions swirling within his father's mind. Through the chaotic morass, he began catch the echoes of the confrontation he had overheard earlier this morning, along with snippets of other hurtful words bantered between the same two men.

"You're thinking about Obi-Wan," Luke stated flatly as he unobtrusively eased back from his father's mind.

Anakin grunted in affirmation. "I've known the man for most of my life. He practically raised me, for Force sake. But sometimes..." He shook his head and grimaced. "Sometimes he is a complete stranger to me," Anakin grumbled. He took a deep breath and continued. "It's my own fault, actually. I shouldn't be so dependent on his opinions. The Chancellor has warned me many times against it. It's just... I don't know..." Anakin raised a hand and raked gloved fingers through his hair. "It hurts sometimes."

Luke's gut twisted uncomfortably at the mention of Palpatine. The disguised Sith Lord was the last person he wanted to hear his father speak about. His irritation flared, and he could not hold his tongue.

"And of course, you always do everything that the Chancellor tells you," he flippantly snapped.

He regretted his words immediately. But whatever reaction Luke could have expected as a result of his disrespectful jibe, it certainly wasn't what he received. Anakin's head shot up immediately. His face held a mixed look of both shock and guilt.

"Why would you say that?" Anakin gasped. He seemed to be completely rattled.

Before Luke could answer, a flash of movement coming towards their table distracted both men into silence. A pretty human waitress wearing an extremely tight, short-skirted blue uniform strutted up to the table carrying a serving tray over her shoulder. As she arrived, she picked up a lone, tall glass of frothy amber liquid from the tray and set it down front of the younger Jedi.

"Here you go, sweetie," she said while giving Anakin a coy wink. "And how are you doing, handsome?" she asked as she turned toward Luke. "Can I get you a refill of your drink?"

"Hermione," his father interrupted before Luke could respond. "I didn't order this." He pointed to the glass of what could be nothing other than Jawa Juice.

"I know that, sweetie," she confirmed with a suggestive smile while reaching out to give his shoulder a playful squeeze. Her flirtatious words and gestures caused an instantaneous blush to rise up on Anakin's cheeks. "But Ty-Ell did. Now, go ahead, enjoy!"

"Wha— What? Who's Ty-Ell?" Anakin sputtered.

"He's the Twi'lek that works down at the Geri-Sol Pharmaceutical Plant. One of our regulars," she explained. "He spotted you sitting over here and ordered the best Ardee's we have on tap. He said it was the least he could do in thanks for emancipating his family on Ryloth last year."

Anakin's brow furrowed at the mention of the memorable battle. "I only played a small role in that campaign," he murmured quietly as he dropped his head. "There were many others who did far more than I."

"Well, he didn't say anything about anyone else. He just told me that he wanted to buy 'The Hero With No Fear' a drink. So, here it is."

"No, Hermione, I can't accept this," Anakin protested, pushing the offensive glass to the middle of the table. "You can thank him for me, but, please—take it back."

"Can't do that, sweetie." Hermione shook her head adamantly as wisps of blond hair wafted about her head. "You're drink's been paid for—and besides—Ty-Ell's already left."

Although the unwitting waitress seemed completely oblivious to the young Jedi's discomfort, Luke could clearly sense his father's growing distress. "Can you please bring a cup of caf?" Luke broke in. He really wasn't thirsty—especially after drinking the ruby biles. But he hoped that his request would at least get the seemingly scatterbrained waitress to leave.

"Sure, handsome." The blond turned her attention onto him and smiled broadly. "I'll be right back."

Luke forced a pleasant smile in return and watched the woman flounce her way back up the aisle. Heaving a breath of relief, he turned back and looked over at his disgruntled father. Anakin had sunk down into the booth cushions once more and was glaring at the offending liquid as if it were the vilest poison.

"I don't even drink," Anakin bemoaned softly.

"Shame for it to go to waste," Luke commented as he focused on the frothy ale. "Mind?" he asked as he nodded toward the glass.

"Not at all," Anakin snorted and waved his hand dismissively over the table. "Help yourself."

Luke reached out and took hold of the glass. He raised it in a silent salute before lifting it to his to his lips. _Definitely Ardee's,_he thought to himself as a slight smile tugged at his lips. He hadn't tasted anything like it since Han had brought him that case back from Tatooine for his fortieth birthday. Taking another sip, he pushed away the distracting memory and focused once more on his father.

"You seem uncomfortable about your notoriety," Luke observed.

"I hate it," Anakin grumbled morosely.

"Really?" Luke replied. "That's surprising. After what you told me about what happened on—"

"Don't get me wrong," Anakin cut in. He looked up at his son with conflicted blue eyes. "I do enjoy the recognition. But I would rather it come from the Jedi and the Council. Instead of treating me with the respect I deserve, I get reprimanded for attracting all this undue attention. Like I have had any say in the matter... It's not as if I asked to become the poster boy for the war."

"So why are you?"

"The Chancellor said that the public needs heroes to look up to—especially when there is so much uncertainty in the galaxy. He says it helps to bring people together and maintain support for the war effort. I guess it makes sense. The Chancellor understands a lot more about then how the Galaxy works then I ever will. I trust that he knows what he is doing. Besides," Anakin said with a shrug, "who am I to argue?"

Luke groaned internally. It seemed that he just could not get away from talk about Palpatine. He swallowed thickly as he was suddenly struck by the ramifications of his father's words. "Was it the Chancellor's idea to call you the 'Hero With No Fear'?"

"I'm not sure. I think the Holonet press started it. But the Chancellor has told me often that the title is well deserved." He scowled.

"You don't think so?"

"Hero With No Fear," Anakin huffed. "I may not be concerned over my own death, but that doesn't mean that I don't fear for those around me. Every time I lose a man under my command or read of the loss of another Jedi in a mission briefing..." He paused and shook his head derisively before continuing, "...it's like I lose a part of myself. The longer that this damn war continues, the more I believe that there will be little left of me when it is over." Anakin looked up and seemed to pierce directly into his son's soul with his unyielding stare. "I can't even imagine how I would survive if I lost someone truly close to me, like Obi-Wan or—Padmé."

"_Save your Mother…" _A cold chill skittered down Luke's spine as the echo of Darth Vader's lone message to him rumbled through his memory. _Kriff! _He needed some time to meditate over these revelations. He ran a calloused finger along the rim of his glass as he contemplated what to say next.

"If it bothers you so much," Luke tendered carefully, "why don't you ask the Chancellor to stop using you like this?"

"You think he's using me?"

"Don't you?"

"I never really gave it much thought," Anakin countered. "I just knew that I didn't want to let him down."

"Let him down?"

"After my mother and Master Qui-Gon, the Chancellor was the first person to show any faith in me at all," his father explained. "I met him on Naboo—after the Trade Federation's blockade had been broken. He must have already been briefed about the events of the battle before he arrived, because the first thing he told me was how impressed he was by how I had helped to end the crisis. He promised me then that he would keep an eye on my career—even though I didn't have one at the time. I had already been rejected by Jedi Council, but he seemed to be absolutely sure that they would reconsider their decision––and they did."

"All right, handsome," Hermione called out as she came striding back to their table with a hot mug of caf on her tray. "Did you need cream with that?" She stopped abruptly as she noticed that Luke had his hands wrapped around the half-empty glass of Jawa Juice. She narrowed her eyes and looked between the two men in confusion.

"Black will be fine, thank you," Luke acknowledged. "You can leave us alone now." He waved his fingers slightly to emphasize his words. The blond waitress straightened and blinked repeatedly for a moment. She then took the mug from her tray and placed it on the table.

"I'll leave you two alone, now," she intoned blankly as she turned on her heels and left once more.

Anakin leaned forward. "That was rather uncalled for," he quipped tersely. "Don't you think?"

"This is important," Luke said, shrugging nonchalantly. "I didn't want any further interruptions." He pushed the newly delivered beverage closer to his father. "Caf?"

Anakin frowned. After a moment's pause, he picked up the mug. Holding it between his hands, he gazed into it and watched the wisps of steam curl about as they rose above the dark liquid.

It took every ounce of patience that Luke had mastered over a lifetime to remain still and wait his father out. He knew instinctively that if he pushed, then this conversation would end abruptly. It had been disturbing to hear Anakin's recollection of his first meeting with Palpatine, but it shed a great deal of light on why his father seemed to already be so devoted to the man. Finally, Luke's efforts were rewarded when, after taking sip of his drink, his father continued on.

"As you already know, it wasn't easy for me when I first came to the Temple. Obi-Wan and I didn't get along very well. We were both grieving over Qui-Gon's death, I missed my mother, and Obi-Wan was still coming to grips with being newly Knighted—along with trying to figure out how to be my Master. I couldn't even manage to make many friends. The rumors about me preceded my arrival. Most of the other initiates my age were jealous that I had received what they considered special treatment. It didn't help that I had already been chosen as a Padawan.

"Again, the Chancellor had apparently heard about what was going on. He offered to spend time with me—to help me catch up with my education—and I certainly needed it. I was so far behind in practically every subject. It wasn't long before I was visiting him at least twice a month. Most of the time, Obi-Wan would deliver me to his office himself. I think that it was his excuse to get me out of his hair for a while."

"What would happen during your visits?" Luke cautiously asked.

"We would talk, mostly. No matter how busy the Chancellor seemed to be, he would always make time for me—and, more importantly, he would listen. I could tell him just about anything. He never criticized me—even when my ideas were incredibly naive and beyond simplistic. Instead, the Chancellor would explain the errors of my ways and thoughts and help me understand how the Galaxy really worked—he shared with me a much broader view than what the Jedi teach. Sometimes, I wish he hadn't."

"Why's that?"

"Because if I didn't know that there was so much more out there, I wouldn't desire it as much as I do." He looked up at Luke guiltily. "I know I shouldn't... And I know that, by doing so—I'm not the Jedi I should be. But I can't help how I feel…"

"The Chancellor appointed you to the Jedi Council, didn't he?" Luke asked.

"Yes, he did."

"So, it was a favor?"

"No, of course not," Anakin retorted. "The Chancellor said it was in recognition of my accomplishments."

"And you're sure that was the only reason?" Luke prodded.

"What other reason would he have?" Anakin asked.

It would be so easy to reveal Palpatine's evil intentions. But as much as he wanted to tell his father the truth, the words refused to come. Something was holding him back. Whether it was the Force—or simply an innate desire for self-preservation—he wasn't sure. Luke reasoned with himself that now was not the time or place for such a devastating pronouncement. Instead, he would err on the side of caution and use a different tactic.

"I just find it odd that he wouldn't want something in return," Luke returned.

"Why would you think that?"

"He is a politician," Luke chided. "They are rarely known to do anything that doesn't have an ulterior motive." He grimaced at his own words. Not only could he feel his father's mood begin to darken, but he also knew that Leia would be beside herself if she ever heard him make such a condescending remark. But still, if he could possibly plant a few seeds of doubt within his father, it would be worth it.

Anakin slowly leaned forward and scowled. "Your mother is a politician." His voice was no more than a mere whisper as smoldering anger ignited anew in his eyes.

"Would you really put her in the same category as the Emp—I mean the Chancellor?" Luke countered.

"Don't start," Anakin warned. His patience was obviously waning relative to the rise of his temper. "You're starting to sound just like Obi-Wan."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Luke said defiantly as he leaned back into the booth.

"It wasn't meant as one," Anakin shot back.

* * *

Obi-Wan was not amused. Not only had he wasted far too much time sitting around in that disaster zone Anakin considered an apartment, but he was also coming to the conclusion that his futile hunt for the young man inside the Temple was turning into a wild bantha chase. _Stars! _Obi-Wan admonished himself. _When did I start using Anakin's desert-born analogies_?

If Anakin would have simply answered his comlink, then all of this nonsense could have been avoided. But of course, he hadn't. As Obi-Wan's survey of Anakin's usual haunts had all turned up empty, he was forced to admit that the young man had no doubt once again managed to slip out of the Temple without going through the proper channels.

Obi-Wan's last hope of finding Anakin had been thoroughly dashed when he had arrived at the virtually empty main hangar. To make matters worse, not only had Obi-Wan's search for the young man been in vain, but he had also virtually been assaulted by that irritating little blue-and-white mechanical menace of his.

Obi-Wan continued to stalk purposely through the empty corridor as he looked down at his light-colored tunic. He once again checked to make sure that he had avoided contact with any of that obnoxious yellow paint that the astromech had been liberally spraying about. Obi-Wan wasn't sure what had possessed that infernal contraption to use such an offensively bright color in the first place. It certainly was not either military or Jedi standard. But then again, Artoo was painting Anakin's new fighter, and it would be just like his ex-Padawan to choose something so...unorthodox...and then instruct the little droid to have at it.

One thing was for sure. As soon as he found Anakin—after he had delivered the Council's message, of course—he would order him to take that blasted droid of his down to the maintenance shop and do a thorough analysis of all of his systems—probably a memory wipe as well. That astromech was a threat to society. There had to be several loose wires inside the thing.

Completely entrenched within his own thoughts, Obi-Wan nearly missed the niggling warning in the Force. He barely avoided barreling into the two fellow Masters as he rounded a blind corner.

"Master Windu, Master Allie," Obi-Wan sputtered as he came to a sharp halt.

"Master Kenobi," the Tholothian Master said. "What a fortuitous encounter. We were coming to look for you."

Despite the fact that the woman's indigo eyes were placidly calm and her facial features deceptively neutral, Obi-Wan could not help but to feel a suspicious thread of annoyance tingling around the young woman's Force signature. Or maybe it was an errant feeling that was bleeding off from the dark-skinned Koran Master standing next to her. He couldn't be sure.

"Really?"Obi-Wan feigned an open smile. "How may I be of service, Masters?"

"Have you spoken to the boy?" Master Windu asked without preamble.

Obi-Wan bristled at the disparaging tone of the question. Yet—relying on his years of practiced skill dealing with one particularly volatile Padawan—he managed to immediately release his irritation...Although his innate sense of protectiveness for his wayward apprentice could not be quite so easily quashed.

"The boy's name is Anakin," Obi-Wan replied calmly, "And no, I have yet to have the opportunity."

"Don't tell us you have misplaced your former Padawan once again, Obi-Wan," Master Allie commented dryly.

"No, Stass, I definitely was not planning on telling you that," Obi-Wan answered calmly. "Now, if you will excuse me—"

"Do you even know where Knight Skywalker is?" she continued to push.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and released a deep breath through clenched teeth. "I assume that he is fulfilling his duties and attending the Chancellor."

"No," Windu rumbled. "He is not."

Obi-Wan's full attention snapped to the Koran Master before him. "What?" he sputtered.

"Padawan Ka-Rel just returned from the Chancellor's office. He was sent to deliver the Council's official response to his newest directives," Windu elaborated. "Ka-Rel reported that Knight Skywalker had yet to arrive by the time he left."

"Well," Obi-Wan drawled as he distractedly stroked his beard. His brows furrowed tightly in consternation. "Whatever has detained Anakin from his assignment must have been important. I am sure that the situation will not delay him much longer." With another deep breath and a remarkable display of self-control, Obi-Wan managed to fold his arms into his sleeves and bow politely to the two Masters. He started to step away. "Now, if you will excuse me, I really must be going—"

Windu's hand grabbed onto Obi-Wan's arm before he could take a second step. "This is serious, Obi-Wan," he hissed as his face hardened into a scowl. "You gave us your word that the boy would comply with the Council's directive."

"Yes, I did," Obi-Wan confirmed. He stiffened to his full and rather un-intimidating height as he slowly drew his arm away. "And I have every confidence that he will. I will speak to him the moment I see him and explain what is expected of him."

"See that you do," Mace barked. "Once you have spoken to him, come find me and report his reaction." He glanced down at his companion. "Master Allie and I are currently on our way to the Works, but after we return, I will be joining Master Yoda in evening meditations."

"The Works?" Obi-Wan couldn't help but to question.

"Yes," Master Windu acknowledged. His fierce demeanor quickly diminished with the change of topic. "There has been a lead in our search for the identity of the remaining Sith Lord. We are on our way to continue our investigation."

"Then by all means," Obi-Wan said as he backed himself against the wall. "Do not let me keep you from it."

All three Masters nodded at each other once more as Windu and Allie stepped away. The two turned the corner and moved quickly down the hall heading toward the main hangar. Obi-Wan remained still and leaned heavily against the wall for support. He unfolded his arms and brought a hand up to rub over his weary features.

"Oh, Anakin," he muttered softly. "I am no longer sure that even I can save you from whatever mess you have gotten yourself into this time..."

* * *

"If you plan to stay here much longer, my friends, I think I may just need to charge your rent," Dex's jovial words echoed through the empty diner.

"I—ah," Anakin's voice cracked unexpectantly. "Sorry, Dex. I guess we lost track of the time."

"Sure, kid," Dex voiced as he ambled up to their table. "I wouldn't be disturbing you if I didn't need to wash down the place. Got to get ready for that dinner crowd, you know."

Anakin nodded absentmindedly and looked past the chuckling Besalisk to the crono hanging above the kitchen alcove. His eyes widened in shock when he read the flashing numbers.

_"Kriff," _he sputtered. Anakin turned toward his son and started to scoot out of the booth. "I should have reported to the Senate hours ago. Come on, Luke, we have to go. But don't worry—I'm sure that the Chancellor will spare a few minutes to meet with you."

Luke remained sitting as if in a daze. He opened his mouth to protest, but the Besalisk beat him to it.

"I hope you brought your own transportation if you plan to get to the Senate district," he stated.

"No, we didn't," Anakin replied. "We'll just catch the transit."

"Better think again, my friend," Dex chuckled. "Until this curfew is lifted, there are no commuter lines running in or out of CoCo town."

"Augh!" Anakin groaned. "Will nothing go right this day?" He flopped back down into the booth, throwing his head back in frustration. He received a loud thump from the solid back wall of the restaurant for his effort.

Although Luke was growing used to his father's untamed emotional outbursts, Dex, gauging from his stunned reaction, apparently had not. The hefty Besalisk planted the fists of his upper arms firmly onto his hips and brought up a third hand to stroke his impressive wattle as he cocked his head to the side and assessed the young man's demeanor. He then began to rummage through a back pocket with another meaty hand.

"Here, kid," he rumbled. "Why don't you just take Old Gert?"

Anakin looked up at the Basalisk with a start. "I couldn't take your speeder, Dex."

"Why not?" Dex smiled conspiratorially. "It wouldn't be the first time."

Anakin visibly paled. "That was a long time ago," he mumbled contritely. "And you were never supposed to find out."

"Don't worry, my friend," the Basalisk chuckled heartily as he tossed over the ignition chip. "I figured it was a small price to pay when she would come back in better shape than when she left. Just take her. She'll get you to where you need to be. And I know she'll be in good hands."

Luke rushed to catch up to his father as he walked around the corner of the diner. Anakin's long and hurried strides were not making it easy. Luke had no idea what his father could possibly be thinking at the moment—although he was pretty sure that Anakin was too worried about where he needed to be to focus on anything else.

"When we reach the Senate—"

"I never agreed to go with you to meet the Chancellor," Luke interrupted.

"Don't start this again," Anakin warned through gritted teeth.

"I'm not starting anything," Luke argued. "I'm ending any delusions you might have with fact."

Anakin stopped so abruptly that Luke nearly plowed into his back.

"Why are you being so stubborn?" Anakin snapped as he wheeled around to face his son. Despite standing stock still, Luke could have sworn that Anakin had gained several intimidating inches in height as he towered over him.

"I'm not the only one being stubborn," Luke retorted.

"This is ridiculous," Anakin fumed. "You don't even know the man."

"You're wrong. I've met Palpatine before," Luke countered as he tipped his chin up to look defiantly into his father's blue eyes. "In fact, you introduced me."

"Well, then," Anakin said, extending his hands out to the side in a questioning manner. "What's the problem?"

"Let's just say neither of us made a good first impression," Luke said with a grimace.

"What did you do?"

"Me?" Luke huffed. "Why do you think it was something that I did?"

"Because I know the Chancellor," Anakin said with a glare."Okay, I'll admit that he can seem a little cold and intimidating at first—especially to a youngling. But he's a good man."

"I am not going with you," Luke reiterated.

Anakin growled and spun his back toward Luke. He took a step away as he raked his fingers through his messy hair. "All right," his father conceded.

_Good._ Luke relaxed slightly and released the breath he had not realized he was holding.

"We will go to the Senate together, and then I'll go and talk to the Chancellor," Anakin explained. "I'll have you come by later to meet us."

_Not so good. _Luke groaned in frustration as he clamped his eyes and raised his face to the sky. Arguing with his hard-headed father was getting him nowhere. It was worse than quarreling with his sister. There was no way he would willingly face Palpatine. If his father wasn't willing to listen to reason, then he should just walk away right now—his father's anger be damned.

"Here."

Luke felt a tap on his arm and looked to see a small cylindrical object held in his father's gloved hand.

"Take my comm unit," Anakin ordered. "I'll pick up another one from the Security Desk on my way to the Chancellor's office."

Luke hesitantly took the familiar device from his father and began to examine it.

"You can stay with the speeder. I'll contact you when––"

"You know this was switched off, don't you?" Luke stated casually.

"Kriff!" Anakin turned away and slammed his fist into the metal-plated wall of the diner and exhaled deeply.

"Apparently, you forgot to turn it back on again after your meeting this morning." Luke flipped the tiny switch on the side of the comm and scrolled through the display once it had materialized. "Twenty-eight messages in less than three hours," Luke mused. "Impressive."

It was his father's turn to groan.

"Most of them are from Master Kenobi," Luke went on, taking perverse pleasure that his father's frustration had turned inward instead of being directed at him. "I'm sure you probably know what they are about." He could feel his father's withering glare as he scanned over the listing of messages.

"Ignore them," Anakin grumbled. "I'll deal with Obi-Wan later." He turned sharply and stalked around the back corner of the diner. "Come with me."

Luke sighed and shook his head in exasperation at Anakin's churlish behavior. He hustled to catch up with his disgruntled father.

"Anakin, wait," he called. "I'm not going to— Whoa!" He stopped in his tracks as he turned the corner to the back of the diner. To say that he was awestruck by what he saw was an understatement. It took a moment to remember to breathe again. "That's 'Old Gert'?" Luke gasped, immediately forgetting his prior train of thought.

"Yes, it is," Anakin acknowledged with a shrug.

Luke took a few hesitant steps toward the vehicle to get a better view and halted. Sure, it looked to be in pretty rough shape. There was more primer on its dented hull than patches of faded red paint, but the distinctive lines of classic speeder were unmistakable.

"An _XA-34_?" Luke glanced over his shoulder for a moment as he slowly began to move forward again. "I've only read about them. I never thought I would ever see one..."

"You must really know your speeders if you can even recognize it in the shape it's in," Anakin commented. The tone of his voice had seemed to calm considerably. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

If Luke had been able to pull even a sliver of his attention away from the mechanized treasure parked before him, he might have caught the slightest hint of a grin beginning to pull at the sides of his father's lips. Watching his son's near-reverent approach was apparently making it difficult for Anakin to hang onto his ire.

"How could I not?" Luke replied.

The compact SoroSuub _XA-34_ had never been mass produced. There were only two thousand of the models ever manufactured. The speeder's overall design, speed capacity, and maneuverability were considered revolutionary for its time. The Republic had banned their production, citing that the vehicle was far too dangerous to be commercialized and released to the public at large. With no viable market, the speeder prototypes had been disbursed throughout the Republic to be used exclusively on the intergalactic racing circuit. Most of them had met their end in spectacular crashes years before Luke had been born. Some had made it into private collections, and then there were the few that had ended up on the black market...

"How did Dex ever find manage to get his hands on one?"

"I have no idea," Anakin answered. "Dex is a pretty resourceful fellow. He's made a lot of connections through the years."

"I'll say," Luke had to agree. "And he calls it..."

"He also tends to have a rather odd sense of humor at times."

Luke chuckled as he came to a stop next to the compact speeder. He ran his hand gingerly along the aerodynamically designed hull in the manner befitting a loving caress. "How can he even fit?"

Anakin frowned. "Actually, I've never seen him in it. Probably best not to think about it."

Temporarily pushing aside every sane reason for not going near the Senate complex again, Luke looked back toward his father and broke into a devious grin. "Let me pilot?"

"What? No!" Anakin sputtered. "Now _you're_ the one who's crazy. Besides, not two seconds ago, you were telling me you wouldn't come with me—"

"I changed my mind," Luke returned. "You let me pilot, and I will agree to take you to the Senate."

"We are both going to the Senate, Luke," Anakin reminded him. "Who pilots the speeder is not an issue."

"Well, if it is not an issue, then let me do it." Luke cajoled. "Come on, I've always wanted to get my hands on one of these babies. It will be a quick trip to the Senate in a speeder like this. What harm could it do?"

"I shouldn't," Anakin wavered. Luke could feel his father's resolve weakening. "Dex loaned his speeder to me..."

"Dex may have loaned it to you, but he didn't say that only you could fly it," Luke urged conspiratorially.

Anakin's frown deepened. His son's words were very similar to what he himself would have said to Obi-Wan to try and get his way. It was the first time that his own special blend of logic had ever been used against him.

"It will be fine, really," his son continued to aver. "I've already proven to you that I can take care of myself. And from what I told you over lunch, you know that I wouldn't have survived this long if I wasn't a good pilot."

"Maybe so," his father countered. "But something tells me that I may come to regret this."

Luke smiled. "You're going to let me pilot, aren't you?"

Anakin gave his son a long look. "What are you planning, Luke?" he asked suspiciously. "You just raised your shields so tightly that I can barely sense you."

"I'm just preparing for the trip, Father." Luke's smile broadened. "You want me to be safe, don't you?"

"Hmm," Anakin remarked as, with a sinking feeling, he slowly proffered the ignition chip to his son.

* * *

"You've done well, my friend," Sidious said as he scrutinized the blurry transmission that had been captured by a remote-controlled camera-droid.

"_There aren't too many places that the _'Hero with no Fear' _can go without half the HoloNet knowing 'bout it,_" the surly bounty hunter replied—his deep voice resonating over the mini transceiver.

_"_And you managed to—_persuade_—one of those reporters to provide you with this?"

"_Let's just say that he won't be needing those pretty pictures no more."_

Although the hazy blue images were slightly unfocused, he could still identify what appeared to be two Jedi setting in the back booth of a small, run-down diner. The boy was definitely one of the figures. He was sure of it just by watching his posture and animated gestures. The identity of other individual, however, remained frustratingly elusive. It might be that infernal Kenobi, Sidious thought with disgust. Even though he could not make out the man's features clearly, he did appear to be older than the boy—and he had a beard. Who else _could_ it have been?

But it didn't make sense. Kenobi sat on the Council. He would know of the boy's appointment as special representative. The insufferable man had a reputation of following proper protocol—as Sidious' soon-to-be apprentice would often point out. Why, then, would Kenobi allow the boy to dally so frivolously? It was a consummate puzzle... He was growing to _loathe _puzzles.

"Where are they now?" Sidious asked.

"_Don't know,"_Montross relayed._"After they left the diner, they jumped into what appeared to be a broken-down __speeder. It wasn't, though. The damned thing ran like a high-performance racer. I lost track of them when they dropped down to the sub-level."_

"In other words," Sidious sneered, "what you mean to say is that your tail was discovered and they managed to evade you."

"_They never saw me." _The Mandalorian riled at the insult. _"That Jedi… he was just plain crazy. I ain't never seen anyone handle a speeder like that before. Hells, damn few pilots could even do some of those maneuvers in a fighter." _

"Yes, yes," the Dark Lord said, smiling maliciously. "Skywalker is well known to be quite gifted in that respect."

"_No." _Montross growled. _"Skywalker wasn't behind the throttle. It was that other Jedi—the older one." _

Sidious raised an eyebrow. "How odd." His surprise had inadvertently caused him to vocalize his musing. Whoever that _older Jedi_ was, it was definitely _not _Kenobi.

"_Yeah, I thought so too—on account of that reputation of Skywalker you always hear on the HoloNet," _Montross chimed in unabashedly. _"When they first left the diner, it looked like they were having some kind of argument. Skywalker tried to leave, but the other Jedi chased after him. By the time I got to a better vantage point, it looked like they were going at it again. I couldn't get close enough to hear what was said, but something made Skywalker back down and let the other Jedi take control."_

"And you have no idea where they went?"

_"Not __a clue,"_ the bounty hunter begrudgingly admitted. _"But I'm betting that wherever they are, Skywalker's still regretting his decision not to pilot that speeder himself."_

"Oh… And why is that?"

_"Last time I caught a glimpse of them, he was looking mighty green..."_


	26. Chapter 26 Like Father Like Son

_**A/N #1:**__ I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy. _

_**A/N #2:**__ This story would not be what it is without the help of my very competent beta reader, "Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu." Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated._

_**A/N #3:**__ I'M NOT DEAD! And more importantly...NEITHER IS THIS STORY! I know that it seems like all I do at the start of each chapter is grovel for your __forgiveness for the long delay between postings. Despite my incessant gnawing guilt, I will resist the urge to do so again __and give you an explanation instead: _

_Simply put...this was a bear of a chapter to write! When I hit 14,000 words (and was still not close to satisfied with what I had typed out), __I realized that I was going to need to take some time for some serious soul-searching—not to mention an intense discussion with my rebellious muse. _

_What resulted from that long, painful process __of more than two dozen re-writes, a lot of late nights and strong coffee, and quite a few tirades that included a multitude of rather colorful words was not only this chapter, but the one that follows __it, and over half of the one after that! Believe it or not, I may be able to get back to __a more regular posting schedule (at least for a while, anyway). I could even start sending back individual responses to reviews...Don't faint! _

_**A/N #4:**__ Finally, I want to once again thank everyone who has __supported this story with your interest and your reviews. Each and every one of them is treasured. I hope that the readers of this story are still out there and haven't given up on me yet. And more importantly, I hope that you will enjoy this next chapter of the story. _

_Now—let's get on with it..._

* * *

**Chapter 26 – Like Father—Like Son**

_Breathe in... Breathe out... Breathe in... Breathe out..._

_How could I have been so foolish? _He silently berated himself. _What was I thinking?_

_Breathe in... Breathe out... Breathe in... Breathe out..._

"I wasn't…obviously," Anakin grumbled with finality. Wrapped so thickly in his turbulent emotions, he barely noticed the sharp bite of crisp breeze that grazed over his clammy skin and ruffled his sweat-dampened hair. Instead, he concentrated on each labored breath in a feeble attempt to peel away his all-consuming anger one thin layer at a time.

_Breathe in... Breathe out... Breathe in... Breathe out..._

Anakin raised himself up to full height and slowly flexed the fingers of his left hand to work the blood-flow back into cramped, white knuckles. He absently moved his head from side to side and was rewarded with the crackle of popping joints as tense muscles began to abate. Turning an unfocused gaze toward the skyline, his mind was unceremoniously drawn back to their arrival just moments ago:

_"We're here," Luke's voice cut in over the loud drone of the speeder's engine._

_He didn't think that he had ever felt such relief over hearing those two simple words before. His son's light-hearted declaration had seemed more like a death-row reprieve than a mild observation. Silently thanking the Force for their survival, he inhaled deeply and released his bottom lip from between clenched teeth as he felt the speeder mercifully settle down onto solid ground. Using what little coherent thought his over-taxed brain had available, he concentrated on __the urgent battle of mastering a rare __yet pressing bout of queasiness. Once that emergency had been abated, __he redirected his thoughts to the seemingly insurmountable task of making his fingers ease their tight grip from the frayed, padded dash._

_Finally able to somewhat regain his sensibilities, he turned toward his son. To his great dismay, he realized that Luke's mental shields remained just as impenetrable as they had been before they left the diner. __His aggravation trebled, __and he frowned deeply as he took in the older man's relaxed appearance. How dare his son have the audacity to act so calm...so confident...so...so amused!_

_Luke had stretched back into the corner of his seat and was resting his right arm along the top of the worn backrest. The quick tapping of his fingers on the speeder's __controls immediately caught Anakin's __attention. Luke's repetitive movements were identical to the ones he himself __had picked up as a child during his podracing __days—an unconscious action to release the remnants of heightened adrenaline. Obi-Wan never had managed to break __him of that annoying habit. He suddenly understood why his old Master had found it so bothersome._

_They had barely lifted off before Luke had pushed the thrusters to their limit. That was the exact moment when Anakin __realized that he had made a terrible mistake. His poor decision-making was confirmed time and again with each additional surge of acceleration and every unconventional twist and turn. It had taken every ounce of his resolve—along with thirteen years of Jedi training—to maintain his self-discipline and prevent himself __from reaching over to wrench the controls away from his maniac son._

_It was hardly surprising when they had quickly picked up a pair of traffic enforcement drones before they had even left Co-Co Town. At least Luke had managed to lose them soon after dropping down into the lower levels. That feat alone was an impressive accomplishment. It had taken him years to figure out how to outwit the planet's traffic control system—as evidenced by the stack of old speeding citations he kept hidden away in the back of his sock drawer._

_But as apparently adept as his son was at piloting, a couple of maneuvers that Luke had powered them through had been nothing more than pure madness—especially when flying through heavy traffic in an unfamiliar, century-old beater that had a worrisome vibration when pulling out of sharp spiral dives... It had made him wonder if Luke had completely lost his senses...__Or did his son simply have __"an abysmally low regard for self-preservation matched only by an astoundingly absurd compulsion for recklessness"?_

_He winced. Those were Obi-Wan's words rattling through his addled brain. He should know. He had heard them uttered often enough after piloting the two of them into—or out of—countless dangerous situations over the past decade. Not wanting to even _contemplate_ the implications of sharing similar thoughts about flying as his aviophobic former master, he focused his attention back on his extremely smug son._

_"I never taught you to fly like that," he growled once he was relatively sure that his voice would not crack._

"_Well, no... Not directly," Luke acknowledged as he leaned even further in his seat. "But you were a major influence. I had to improvise a lot when I started flying missions. I had to keep out of your way, after all." Luke's smile broadened suspiciously—as if his words held some secret meaning of significance._

_He dismissed the oblique explanation. He was much more interested in getting to the relative safety of the landing pad before Luke could commence any further demonstration of his piloting prowess. Pulling himself out of the speeder with all the dignity he could muster, he started to make his way toward the entry to the Senate building on surprisingly shaky legs._

"_Stay put until I call for you," he commanded without looking back._

_He had anticipated hearing his son's acquiescence to his order—not the loud whine of repulsors or distinctive roar of thrusters. He definitely didn't expect to only catch a fleeting glimpse of the primed hull of Dex's speeder as it curled over the edge of the landing dock to make a hasty retreat back into the traffic lanes._

_Luke was gone..._

_Breathe in... Breathe out... Breathe in... Breathe out... _

_His son_—_his _SON—_had _abandoned_ him!_

_Breathe in... Breathe out... Breathe in... Breathe out... _

Pulling out of his reverie, he felt his anger surge once again. How could Luke have deceived him like this? A son should respect his father, not desert him! He felt so—so betrayed... Betrayed by his own son!

_Breathe in... Breathe out... Breathe in... Breathe out..._

He clamped his jaw tightly, causing cheek muscles to tick as he valiantly fought another irrational urge to take action. Something deep within him warned that it would only make matters worse if he allowed himself to do something foolish_—_like bolting to the nearest unoccupied speeder and chasing after his wayward child. For once, he decided to listen and kept his feet firmly planted on the landing pad.

Besides, Anakin rationalized, with those damnable shields hiding his presence, there would be little chance that he could even _find _Luke—especially if he did not want to be found. And with the way that Luke had just _run off_—it was infuriatingly apparent that he was the last person that his errant son would want to found by...

_Breathe in... Breathe out... Breathe in... Breathe out..._

Anakin ran the fingers of both hands through his hair in frustration as his vision momentarily blurred. Maybe that was the real reason behind why he remained still. Maybe it was the fear that if he did somehow manage to find Luke, his son would reject him all over again.

Anakin's throat closed reflexively as the brutal reality of the situation stuck him with such tenacity that he choked on his own breath. His flaming temper was doused to embers as efficiently as if a bucket of icy water had been dumped on his head. No... Luke hadn't rejected him—he had caused his own son to flee.

_Breathe in... Breathe out... Breathe in... Breathe out..._

It had been less than a day since he had found Luke wandering the lower tunnels around the Temple. His son had yet to disclose the true reason as to why he had defied archaic law and common sense to travel back in time, but it wasn't as if he had been given a chance to do so. Besides, did it really matter? Whatever the circumstances, it didn't diminish the fact that he was here.

Luke. His son was here. It was a gift through the Force. A blessing that should be cherished. But how had he responded? So far, he had condemned and argued with Luke almost constantly, physically assaulted him (several times), dangled him off balconies, drug him through ventilation systems, and stuffed him in a maintenance office no bigger than a closet. Even their lunchtime conversation had been rocky to say the least. _Stang! _No wonder Luke had chosen to mete out a little revenge of his own and then leave. It was rather surprising that his son had tolerated as much as he had.

_Breathe in... Breathe out... Breathe in... Breathe out..._

Clamping his eyes shut, he dropped his chin to his chest. His remorse over his actions continued to eat away at him until he felt like nothing more than a hollow shell. He had backed his own son into a corner and had not even realized it. When Luke had finally relented and agreed to pilot them to the Senate, he had been so flushed with the pride of winning their last argument that he hadn't taken note of the fact that his son had never actually conceded to stay once they got here. Escape had become Luke's only option_. Sith! _What kind of father was he?

_Breathe in... Breathe out... Breathe in... Breathe out..._

Commanding his eyes to open, Anakin scanned the blur of traffic with all the dispassion he could muster as he reanalyzed the ramifications of Luke's desertion. Despite his son's ability to keep his emotions well guarded, he should have expected something other than compliance. Especially since he had clearly felt—before his son had thrown up his mental shields—Luke's anxiety roiling off him with the tumultuousness of a Kaminoan tempest.

But why had Luke so adamantly refused to meet Palpatine? His son's wariness had made no sense. How could Luke think of the Chancellor as anything other than the same trusted confidant and mentor that Anakin had known over the past decade? In all their years of friendship, Palpatine had been nothing but supportive. In fact, it was sometimes even eerie how the man seemed to sense exactly what troubled him. Even odder was the fact that Palpatine knew just the right things to say to ease his worries and boost his self-confidence. His advice had always seemed to make sense. The man had never acted less than honorably—

Anakin's breath hitched again. He closed his eyes as the unbidden image of Count Dooku held at bay between crossed lightsaber blades flashed in his mind. He had to swallow down the bile that surged up his throat as the memory of the Chancellor's impassioned order to kill the Sith reverberated through his skull. Worse than the shame he had felt over the incident had been his outrage at hearing Palpatine's demand to abandon Obi-Wan a few moments later. Granted, the Chancellor had been frightened—and only wanting to hurry along their escape. But after all the years of knowing how he felt about Obi-Wan, how could his friend have even made the suggestion?

He viciously shook his head in a futile attempt to brush the distracting thoughts away. He had thought that he had reconciled himself with the events on the _Invisible Hand_—especially after his long conversation with the Chancellor—but apparently he had not. Still, he couldn't blame the Chancellor's words for his own lapse in judgment. It didn't matter that Palpatine had managed to assuage most of his guilt and justify his actions as retribution for the man's heinous crimes—it was still wrong.

_Breathe in... Breathe out... Breathe in... Breathe out..._

Maybe he should have paid more attention to his recalcitrant son. The increasing adamance of Luke's arguments should have made it clear that he was holding something back regarding the nature of his relationship with the Chancellor. Instead of asking for a reason behind his protests, Anakin had treated Luke with just as much blind arrogance and insufferable apathy as the Jedi Council often conferred on him. Looking at it that way, why was he even surprised by his son's actions? It was exactly like something that he would have done given the same circumstances—

"Are you all right, sir?"

"Wh—what?" Anakin stammered and whirled around to be confronted by the stern face of a Senatorial Guardsmen. A quick glance at the insignia on his uniform identified the man's rank.

_Great! _Anakin grumbled to himself. He'd been so mired in his own thoughts that he had not even noticed the captain's approach. The last time anything like this had happened to him, he was twelve. Thank goodness that Obi-Wan wasn't here to witness this. It was bad enough to have the guardsman here. He was sure the man thought he was some star-struck, half-witted nerf-herder standing out here—alone—on the empty landing pad.

The blue-robed guard stiffened as a look of recognition crossed his face. "General Skywalker," he gasped with a touch of awe as he obediently tipped his helm in deference. "Is there anything I can do for you, sir?"

"Um—no, Captain," Anakin replied lamely as he pulled the cowl of his dark cloak over his disheveled hair. Wanting nothing more than to make a hasty retreat, Anakin spun on his heels and trudged away. "Carry on," he dismissively ordered over his shoulder as he vanished into the building.

The Senate had yet to reconvene since the Separatist attack. As many of the Senators and their delegations had retreated to the safety of their embassies, it had left the cavernous halls nearly vacant. Anakin was thankful for that. He purposely ignored the few beings he did pass and was immensely relieved that no one approached him. He was in far too foul a mood to deal pleasantly with them if they had.

Anakin kept his eyes lowered as he stalked through the extravagant rotunda. His warring thoughts were a maelstrom of conflicting concerns. He needed to somehow find Luke. But he had to report to the Chancellor. His emotional upheaval grew more daunting with each long stride as the resonance of his steps seemed to echo his growing misery.

_Find Luke… See the Chancellor… Find Luke… See the Chancellor… Find Luke… See the Chancellor… _

Reaching the turbolifts, he punched in the appropriate clearance code with a bit more vehemence then necessary. Thankfully, it didn't take long for the lift pod to arrive. He stepped in and was swiftly taken to the section of the building that housed the executive offices.

As the doors reopened, his eyes were automatically drawn to the opposite wall. Padmé had once explained to him that the abstract sculpture on display was the masterpiece of some galaxy-renowned artist. Despite her assurances to the contrary, he continued to be convinced that the ungainly thing would be much more appropriate sitting in Watto's shop. The only redeeming quality to the conglomeration of assorted metal and plasteel was the chrono conspicuously embedded into the middle of it. That particular electronic timepiece had now seemed to have mysteriously taken on demonic characteristics as it confirmed the evidence of his lateness with each unrelenting flash.

Anakin groaned as he dragged his eyes away and stepped out of the turbolift. He hurriedly made his way through the maze of the long, winding hallway that lead to Palpatine's office. Maybe he could ask the Chancellor to keep their meeting short... Anakin snorted. That was a ridiculous thought—even for him.

Palpatine was probably furious by now over his extended delay. The man generally had an abundance of patience, but even he had limits. And what about the Jedi? If the Council had been contacted about his unexplained absence, then it would certainly lead to another unpleasant disciplinary reprimand once he returned to the Temple.

_Stang! _Anakin quickened his pace as the queasiness in his gut threatened to return for an encore.

Turning the corner into another curved corridor, he stopped short as he felt the brush of a familiar presence through the Force. All his pressing thoughts evaporated instantly from his mind as a smile broke over his face. _Padmé. _She was not yet visible, but he could sense that she was definitely coming closer—and at quite an impressive clip. His grin faded into a look of concern as he was unexpectedly inundated by waves of negative emotions washing through the long corridor.

Anakin swallowed thickly as he was struck with the flash of a new worry that her radiating ire might be somehow directed at him. Padmé had been very upset upon finding Luke in their apartment this morning. But he was sure that she would have had enough time to cool down about that by now—at least, he hoped she had.

Still, it wouldn't be good for Padmé in her condition if his presence added to her upset. Battle-honed survival instincts kicked in, and he quickly decided that discretion would be his best course of action—he was already in enough trouble as it was. Anakin promptly made his way to the shadows along the side of the hall. He leaned against the back of one of the large decorative columns that lined the corridor, ensuring that he was well hidden, and waited for her to pass.

It didn't take long before his beloved appeared around the curved corridor. She was marching purposefully through the marble hall. Her heavy cloak swayed loosely over a mass of burgundy silks and efficiently hid her uncharacteristically round figure. Despite the awkwardness of her pregnancy, Padmé's clipped steps were making impressive progress—so much so that her security chief and loyal handmaiden were having to hustle just to keep up with her.

As always, the mere sight of her sent a tingling tremor through his body that arrowed straight into his soul. But the nearer Padmé drew, the more uneasy Anakin became. From his hidden vantage point, he could tell that she was clearly incensed. Even her impeccably controlled "senatorial" face could not completely hide her troubled expression—nor the smoldering intensity held within her beautiful brown eyes. In her current emotional state, Anakin had to wonder if she would have even noticed him standing out in plain sight.

Compassion overwhelmed every shred of good sense, and Anakin felt compelled to go and comfort her. However, he didn't get the chance, as the doors to the Alderaanian Senatorial office opened just as she reached them. Anakin grimaced as he watched Bail Organa step out. He knew he couldn't risk being seen by the Viceroy. The man was too intelligent not to already have some suspicions regarding how often he and Padmé tended to accidentally "run into" each other.

"Padmé?" the Viceroy queried with surprise.

"Oh, Bail." Padmé stopped so abruptly that she inadvertently took a stumbling step forward.

"Are you all right?" Organa voiced his concern as he reached out to steady the petite Senator by her elbow.

Padmé's awkward movement nearly caused Anakin to bolt from his hiding place. Only the knowledge that whatever was upsetting his wife would pale in comparison to her outrage at her overprotective husband's rash action kept him miserably in place. But his restraint didn't prevent him from grating his teeth as a rush of jealousy spiked through his veins at seeing another man's hands on his wife. Impatiently pushing away his indignation, he used the Force to enhance his ability to hear the continuing conversation.

"Yes, Bail. I'm fine," Padmé assured him as she stepped back and removed her arm from his grasp. "I'm just rather distracted—and...frustrated."

"Oh? That's not at all like the Senator I know," he tendered gently. "May I ask why?"

Padmé took a moment to inhale deeply and gather her thoughts. "I just spent the last hour and forty-five minutes standing in front of the Chancellor's reception desk," she explained. "Since I had not received a response to my earlier messages, I decided to go in person in an attempt to reschedule a time to continue our meeting from this morning."

"Aah," Bail commented with a nod. "We were dismissed rather abruptly, weren't we? Am I correct to assume that you were unable to do so?"

"No, I wasn't," she huffed in dismay. "In fact, his regular secretary wasn't even there. The girl who has apparently replaced him seems totally clueless. She refused to even pass the Chancellor a message. She just kept repeating that the Chancellor had requested not to be disturbed." Padmé threw her hand up frustration. "Palpatine is the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, Bail. You would think that he could manage to retain a competent aide for more than a few weeks at a time."

"Well, I can't offer you an explanation for the Chancellor's personnel woes, I'm afraid," the Alderaanian Senator replied with a slight grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "But I may be able to enlighten you regarding another matter. In fact, I was just coming to find you."

"Were you?"

"Yes," he drawled as he took a moment to survey both directions of the corridor to ensure that they were alone. "Since we were unable to complete our agenda with the Chancellor, a few of our colleagues have come to speak with me about some mutual concerns, Padmé," he continued in a hushed tone. "Before our discussion became too detailed, I thought that I would see if you would be interested in joining us. I believe you may find our ideas quite intriguing." He looked at her intently, as if trying to impart clandestine meaning behind his words.

Padmé stiffened. She had obviously been able to pick up something from the man's curious demeanor. After a few moments of silent contemplation, she seemed to relax and smiled demurely. "Well, then," she said with a light tone. "Let's not keep our friends waiting." Padmé turned to address her aides. "Moteé, please return to my office and continue to try and make contact with the Chancellor. The Captain and I will be back shortly."

"Yes, My Lady," the dark-haired handmaiden answered with a respectful curtsy. "I will endeavor to be most persistent," she added with a coy smile.

"Thank you," Padmé replied hurriedly and then turned back to the Viceroy. "Shall we?"

"Of course," Bail said as he gallantly offered her his arm. "Captain Typho," he addressed Padmé's Security Chief. "I believe that you will find our lounge quite comfortable while you wait for the Senator."

"I'm sure I will," the dark-skinned man grumbled.

Hidden as he was, Anakin didn't need to see Typho's expression to know that the man would not be happy at such a spontaneous change in plans. But the consummate professional had learned through many years of experience that voicing his opposition would do nothing to deter the Senator from Naboo once she had made up her mind. Her trusted Chief of Security would simply attempt to keep her safe no matter what she obstinately decided to do.

"What are you up to, Padmé?" Anakin mumbled darkly as his frown deepened. As he watched the odd ending to their conversation, all of the urgency wrapped around his previous concerns evaporated into smoke as a new worry settled into place. Whatever it was that Padmé and Organa were about to discuss, it was making him strangely uneasy. Anakin narrowed his eyes as Padmé slipped her hand onto Organa's offered arm and disappeared behind the closing doors.

Although he knew that his wife's loyalty to the Republic was just as unquestionable as her devout belief in democracy, he still wondered what would motivate her to react so... suspiciously. _Kriff! _He hated secrets—especially when he was the one left in the dark. He needed to know what Padmé was getting herself into. But how?

Anakin leaned his forehead onto the cool marble of the column. It wasn't as if he could simply ask her. It wouldn't matter how he tried to explain the circumstances—he could not tell her that he had overheard their conversation and seen her reaction to it_. _The only way he would even know of this encounter would be if he had been spying on her_—which he had been—_but not as intentionally as she would immediately jump to conclude_._

He had already learned a hard lesson in discretion from the argument that had spiraled out of his request for her presence at his awards ceremony. He had been completely blindsided by her reaction when he had first mentioned the event. She had virtually exploded into a tirade of accusations of _manipulating the populace_ and _profiteering from tragedy_. Padmé's uncharacteristic over-reaction had prompted him to wonder if her contrary attitude had something to do with her pregnancy. He had sorely discovered too late that he should have kept _that_ speculation to himself_—_but only after voicing his concern. Thankfully, he had caught himself before mentioning the Chancellor's offhanded remark that not attending the event would question one's patriotism to the Republic.

He flushed slightly as he remembered how he had finally managed to defuse the tense situation. It had taken every diplomatic skill that he had ever gleaned from his old Master_... _Along with some very creative maneuvers in _aggressive negotiations_ that came from his own arsenal of expertise. Once she had finally agreed to participate in the presentation_—_if only as a personal favor to him_—_he had silently vowed to not only weather whatever storm his hormonally volatile wife could throw at him, but to also devote every moment they had together to making sure that Padmé remained happy and safe. If that meant he needed to avoid speaking to her about the war or politics for the indefinite future_—_then so be it.

Anakin straightened himself up to his full height. Although he diligently tried to suppress his worry for his wife, his mind refused to cooperate, as it remained stubbornly riveted on the vivid memories of their recent reconciliation. His attempts to reassure himself that Padmé was perfectly capable of taking care of herself were crumbling into anxious uncertainty as well. No matter how hard she had struggled to hide the signs, he had clearly observed the subtle tinge of exhaustion that tainted her features and had felt her heightened stress level radiating through the Force. It also didn't help that he was well aware of her infuriating tendency to push herself too hard...

As he stepped out from behind the pillar, an unexpected rush of filtered air caused him to reflexively look for its cause. His eyes focused on the ventilation duct directly above him, and he stared at it blankly for what must have been an exorbitant amount of time.

_Well… _he finally mused to himself. _I _am_ already late. How much worse could it be to delay just a bit more? Padmé _did_ say that she wouldn't be long..._

A lopsided grin broke across his face as he continued to rattle off his internal justifications. _Besides, I need a comlink to contact Luke, and I know where Padmé keeps the one I encrypted for her. _Anakin glanced around the empty corridor one last time. With the final vindication that he was her husband and had a responsibility to make sure she was feeling all right any time he deemed appropriate, Anakin put his impromptu plan into action. He would need a considerable amount of determination and focus to reach his destination. But his effort would be well worth the trouble—especially for the goal he had in mind...

* * *

Luke eased the little speeder back to its grease-stained spot in the alley behind Dex's place. He shut down the engine and leaned his head back while closing his eyes. Running his fingers through his wind-tousled hair, he arched his back and twisted in the seat, stretching out tense muscles. His headache had returned with a vengeance and was once again throbbing with a thunderous rhythm. And this time, he had no one to blame for his discomfort but himself.

He had needed to tap deeply into the Force to accomplish most of those daredevil maneuvers—too deeply. He still couldn't believe that he had successfully outwitted those two traffic control droids. He had never managed to do that before—as evidenced by the handful of citations he kept carefully hidden away in the back of one of the office desk drawers.

Dropping his hands to his face, he rubbed circles over his eyes and temples. What had possessed him to push _Old Gert_ like that? He was getting far too old for that kind of nonsense. Maybe he could blame his inane bout of recklessness as a side effect of his recent trip through time? It was either that, or he had experienced a temporary lapse of sanity caused by being so swept up in the perverse pleasure of witnessing his father's painful struggle to maintain a demeanor of Jedi calm...

Thoughts of Anakin made him visibly wince as he pulled himself forward and dropped his chin to his chest. He exhaled heavily. Although the initial rush of escaping from Anakin's clutches had felt exhilarating, profound shame at his childish actions had quickly taken hold as his adrenaline drained away. The more distance that he put between himself and his father, the more he realized that he had made a terrible mistake. His guilt had continued to relentlessly gnaw away at his insides until he felt like nothing more than nothing more than an empty shell.

What had he done? Nearly a day's effort in attempting to build even a modicum of trust between him and his father had been ruined. Flying off and abandoning Anakin on an empty landing pad like that had probably irreparably damaged what fragile rapport they had managed to achieve.

His hasty retreat certainly didn't represent the responsible actions of a mature adult—much less the Jedi Master that he was supposed to be. No, it was more like something that Han would have coerced him into doing twenty years ago. Or maybe even something his father would do—especially since Luke now knew about a few of the man's more creative exploits. Luke was just thankful that he had not been able to see the expression on Anakin's face after he left...

Heaving a disgusted sigh, he pulled himself out of the speeder. Remembering to drape the cowl of his dark cloak over his head, he walked to the front of the diner while keeping his eyes focused on the ground in front of him. Luke was so consumed by his thoughts that he didn't notice that the building was empty and that the lights had been turned off until he reached the entry and rattled the unyielding locked door.

"Great," he mumbled aloud. Luke looked around for a mail slot to drop the ignition chip through but did not find one. Instead, his eyes were drawn to a handwritten piece of flimsy attached to the transparent door panel in front of him. All that was written on the sheet was the hasty message of "_Be back soon_." He would have to wait.

Luke might have learned to be a patient man over the years, but he still had limits. Standing around outside of a closed diner like some half-witted nerf-herder while waiting for the Besalisk's return seemed nearly intolerable. He glanced at the waist-high newsstand sitting next to the door containing a stack of flimsy sheets that detailed the day's current events. He grimaced as his attention was snagged by the day's date printed in their banners.

It wouldn't be long before the life of every sentient being in this galaxy would be changed forever. Something terrible was going to happen, and at the center of it all would be his father. And despite how much he had learned about his father over the past day, he had dwindling confidence that he would have the time to decipher the mystifying circumstances that had triggered his father's fall.

Of course, that wouldn't keep him from seeking to prevent the tragedy that was about to unfold. If nothing else, at least one thing had been reconciled in his own mind. Despite all the arguing, his contentious maneuvering through emotional minefields, and being tossed into more walls then he was willing to count, he cared for his exasperating father—just as much as he did twenty-five years ago when he had surrendered to him on Endor. He might have ultimately lost him then, but he was bound and determined to do everything in his power not to do so now. That was—he intended to—if Anakin would only let him…

Luke shook his head in frustration. He folded his arms into the sleeves of his borrowed cloak and began to walk back to the alley. Nearly every rational course of action that he had devised since accepting this mission had gone horribly astray. He hadn't even managed to make contact with the people that he had wanted to—yet he had blundered into meeting the one person that he had planned to avoid.

_"Answers you will find where none were expected. Opportunities revealed where none were sought..." _Wasn't that what Master Hatu had said? The Temporal Guardian's words had certainly summed up his experiences since he had arrived back here. It was almost as if the Force itself had its own agenda as to how events were to unfold and was controlling his path despite his best efforts to the contrary. Luke huffed derisively. Maybe it was—he just couldn't tell anymore…

The heels of his boots scraped against the pavement as he continued his slow trek. He felt so lost. He certainly was not acting like the Jedi he should be. How long had it been since he had lost his focus? When was the last time he had simply trusted his feelings?

Reaching the back of the diner, he came to a low pile of empty packing crates stacked next to the back door. He plopped himself down and sank his head into his hands as he rested his elbows on his knees. After a moment, he rubbed his hands over his eyes. Maybe Leia's condemnation during their last argument was more accurate than he had been willing to believe...

Luke dropped his arms and stared blankly at the duracrete at his feet. He had to stop this. There was no time to waste berating himself with guilt and grief again. Besides, if he could successfully keep the Empire from coming into existence, he wouldn't only save his father_—_but the rest of his family as well. But how was he to do that?

"_You already know the right thing to do..." _The hauntingly familiar words from one of his recent visions once again drifted into his mind. He couldn't help but shake his head in rebuke and chuckle to himself. Aunt Beru had always possessed an uncanny ability to deliver sage advice. Of course, that had never meant that he would invariably listen to her counsel—mostly due to his own stubbornness.

Well, he might be at a loss as to how to save the galaxy at the moment—but he did already know the next thing that he had to do. As soon as Dex returned and he handed over _Old Gert's_ ignition chip, he needed to contact his father. He had to apologize for his irresponsible behavior and rash actions. Luke knew that it wouldn't be easy—and it could even involve being slammed into another wall in the process_—_but his feelings were absolute. He would listen to them this time; it was the right thing to do.

With a deep exhale, Luke leaned back against the cold metal wall and stretched out his legs. He crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes as he weighed his options as to the best way to accomplish his task. He wasn't going back to the Senate. That was non-negotiable. It was disturbing enough to know that Anakin was probably meeting with the Chancellor at this very moment.

Seeking out Anakin at the Jedi Temple was not an option either. He had already been warned that Master Yoda would not take kindly to his interference in the timeline. And if his father was correct with his perceptions, the ancient Grand Master quite possibly had suspicions about his presence already. He wouldn't jeopardize either his mission or his father's safety by going there.

He could try to find his father at 500 Republica, but if he was there, then Padmé would probably be there, too. His mother had been distraught enough when she had discovered him in her apartment this morning, and he didn't want to put her through any more stress if he could help it. Anakin was obviously worried about her, and his protective concern could limit his willingness to listen.

As a last resort, there was always the option of just staying put, Luke continued to muse. Anakin would undoubtedly want to make sure that Dex's speeder had been returned at some point. How else would he find out unless he...

Luke started and sat up abruptly as another idea came to him in a flash. He shifted his weight to the side and groped blindly at his belt while attempting to maintain his balance on the precariously stacked crates. Finding the object of his search, he pulled out the comlink that Anakin had given him and resettled against the wall.

Comlink technology had changed very little through the years. Anakin's model was surprisingly similar to the one he had left with his belongings on Agnostos. Luke had already changed the settings to record all incoming messages when his father had first handed it to him—after he had turned it back on, that was. Clicking on one of the side buttons, he scrolled through the unheard message display. The count was up to thirty-two. Although three messages on the list had originated from the office of the Supreme Chancellor, the balance of the ever-growing collection had all come from Obi-Wan. Luke smirked. Anakin was going to have a lot of explaining to do_—_that was for certain.

Since there were no other senders listed, Luke had to assume that Anakin had either not had a chance to pick up another device yet—or was still too angry with him to make contact. Not wanting to dwell on the latter, Luke decided that he would make sure that he was ready to receive his father's call whenever it came. He worked his fingers nimbly over the comlink's controls to remove the auto-forwarding option. He would just need to pay attention and check the display before answering an incoming call to make sure that it was not someone he shouldn't be speaking with.

Satisfied with his adjustments, Luke replaced the comlink on his belt and leaned back against the wall. He refolded his arms, noting with some relief that his headache had eased considerably. He would wait here until Anakin either called or showed up. Now, if he could just do something about his growing boredom...

Glancing around the alley, his attention was snagged when the distinctive shape of Dex's speeder caught his eye. He couldn't prevent his lips from tweaking into a slight smile at the memory of _Old Gert's_ remarkable performance. Piloting that speeder had been a dream come true. The sporty little _XA-34_ had responded better than he could have possibly imagined. She maneuvered perfectly—except for that slight vibration he had felt when pulling out of sharp spiral drives. Thinking back on it, from the concerned look that had passed over his father's face the first time it happened, Luke was pretty sure that Anakin had noticed the vibration as well—even though he hadn't said anything. Then again, Anakin was somewhat preoccupied by other concerns at the time.

Luke's smile grew wider as he stood up and walked up to the old speeder. Maybe there was an alternative to just sitting around. He could at least make himself useful while he waited for Dex. Pushing his hand into the front grill-work, he quickly found what he was looking for. The sound of the releasing hood latch was his immediate reward when he tugged on a hidden lever. Propping up the narrow covering, Luke leaned over the side panel to begin a cursory examination of the speeder's engine compartment.

As his search of _Old Gert's_ innards intensified, his thoughts drifted once more toward his father. Anakin had certainly been taken aback when Dex had mentioned that he was aware of his father's previous unauthorized excursions. He absently wondered when Anakin had last "borrowed" the little speeder. He was sure it hadn't happened since the start of the war. Anakin had been adamant about how little leave time he had been given over the past three years—along with stating that every spare moment he did have was spent with Padmé.

Luke's thoughts began to stray once more to his unexpected encounter with his mother. It had felt so surreal when he had finally met her. His father had been completely flustered when she had first appeared, but that had not prevented him from instinctively rushing to protect her. It was clear to see how emotionally attached Anakin was to her. Besides, the fact that Anakin was willing to defy the Jedi Code to marry her in the first place proved that the depth of his devotion to her was beyond question. Luke had to wonder if Palpatine knew of their relationship. Despite the close friendship that his father believed he shared with the Chancellor, would Anakin have disclosed such a carefully guarded secret to Palpatine when he had not confided in Obi-Wan?

Of course, even if Anakin had not said a word, it didn't necessarily mean that that soulless monster hadn't discovered their marriage through other nefarious means. And if he had, how would he use it to his advantage? Remembering how the two Sith Lords had effectively twisted his own strong feelings for friends and family to nearly turn him to the Dark Side during their confrontation on the second _Death Star_, Luke knew that it was a valid concern.

"_Save your Mother…" _Vader's request had unsettled him when he first heard it. Luke had dismissed it as a haunting plea of remorse from a tortured soul. But what if—what if his father had been literally requesting Luke's help? And then there was the bigger question... Save her from what?

_What am I missing?_

Despite being muddled in his ruminations, Luke's attention was caught by a hairline ring of carbon-scoring around one of the speeder's power converters. He immediately recognized the innocuous evidence as a possible indicator of the reason for the slight vibration he had felt. With a rush of triumph, he heedlessly reached forward to push aside some of the obscuring wires to get a better view. His thoughtless action initiated a willowy, blue arc of electricity between the crimped wires that shot directly towards his unprotected fingers. Distracted as he was, Luke reflexes were a bit too slow, and he was unable to avoid the spark. Feeling the painful zap course into the sensory connectors of his mechanical hand, he acted on instinct and jumped up—banging the back of his head resoundingly on the engine cover above him as he did so. Both startled and dazed, Luke reeled away from the speeder in pain. He slipped on a smear of hydraulic fluid as he stepped back and twisted awkwardly in an attempt to regain his balance.

_"E-chu-ta!" _Luke cursed loudly as he shook the sting out of his hand. Overwhelmed by an uncharacteristic flash of indignation at his own stupidity, he looked for a quick release for his frustration and kicked at the stack of wooden boxes, causing them to tumble over.

"Now, now..." a deep voice rumbled through the alley. Luke whipped around to find Dex standing at the end of the alley and chuckling in amusement. "What did those poor ol' muja-fruit crates ever do to you?"

"D-Dex?" Luke stammered in surprise. He was unaccustomed to not noticing the approach of others—something that seemed to be happening far too frequently of late. Thoroughly flushed with humiliation—not only by his childish behavior, but also by his completely foolish action that caused the incident in the first place—Luke simply dropped his head with a sigh and closed his eyes. "Um... Hi."

"Luke, right?" the Besalisk queried as he walked forward. "I'm surprised to see ya back here so soon. Where's Anakin?"

"I—ah..." Luke took a step to the side to avoid the lumbering Besalisk. "I dropped him off at the Senate complex." Luke cringed internally as another twinge of guilt stabbed into his gut. At least he was able to maintain a stoic facade. "Since I wasn't busy, I thought that I would return your speeder," he added with a half-hearted smile.

"I see." Dex ambled up to _Old Gert_ and peered into the cramped engine compartment. He placed two meaty hands on his hips and brought a third up to rub his chins. "Is there problem with the ol' girl?" he drawled.

"Nothing serious," Luke assured him, moving to stand next to the Besalisk."There's a slight vibration when she accelerates out of—certain maneuvers. It's barely noticeable, but I thought I would look for a cause while I was waiting to return the ignition chip to you. I just found evidence that at least one of her power converters appears to be misaligned."

"Ah." Dex nodded in acknowledgement. He leaned forward to get a better look at the engine and rested all four of his hands on the side of the speeder. "So the success of finding the source of the problem was what lead to that little, ah, exhibition?"

"Well..." Luke answered begrudgingly as he continued to massage his mechanical hand to try and ease the remaining sting out of it. "Something like that."

"I guess that your friend, Anakin, never mentioned that _Old Gert_ can be a bit feisty when she wants to be?"

"No, obviously not," he chuckled. Luke began to relax as the easygoing Besalisk's quirky personality managed to put him at ease. "Although it was my own fault," Luke confessed. "I wasn't paying close enough attention to what I was doing."

"She's a good ol' gal—don't get me wrong," Dex stated. His pride in the little speeder was clearly evident in the tone of his voice. "Gert's had lots of special modifications through the years. It's made her one of a kind_—_and pretty cantankerous in her own way_—_sorta like her owner." The Besalisk turned his head to give Luke a sidelong glance. "Can't compare her to another ride in the galaxy. But I'm sure you figured that out since you had a chance to fly her."

"I think that I can honestly say that I will remember piloting this speeder for the rest of my life," Luke agreed.

"So..." Dex winked conspiratorially at Luke. "You think you can fix her?"

Luke frowned for a moment at the unexpected question, but something deep inside of him sparked to life at the opportunity Dex had offered him. "Well, despite what you may think from my little display... I know I can," he averred self-confidently as his resolve solidified.

"Well, well. I think you've been in the company of your friend a bit too long there, Master Jedi," Dex chuckled. "That assurance sounds exactly like something young Skywalker would say."

Luke didn't offer a verbal replay, but he nodded slightly in agreement. His words were exactly something that a _young Skywalker_ would say—just not necessarily the one that Dex was referring to.

"Okay—" Dex said as he slapped two meaty hands on his knees and pushed himself up from the speeder. "If you say that you can fix her, then that's good enough for me. If there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's to never doubt the word of a Jedi—'specially ones that claim they can fix my speeder. I think Anakin left some of his tools here the last time he worked on the ol' girl. I'll be right back."

Luke stepped back out of the way to let the Besalisk shuffle by. He furrowed his brow as Dex's statement coalesced in his brain. Wait a minute—what had just happened? There was no time to consider the question as the hefty Besalisk appeared back at his side almost immediately with a worn leather satchel.

"Here ya go, my friend," Dex said as he handed over the heavy bag. "If you're half the mechanic as that Anakin is, I'm sure you'll have her running right in no time."

Before Luke could offer a protest, Dex had retreated back into the little diner—the door panel sliding shut with a snap. He was once again standing alone. The stunned Jedi looked around the vacant alley. Why had he agreed to work on the Dex's speeder? He scratched his bearded chin as he tried to come up with an explanation. And why had it felt so right when he said he would? Well, he guessed it really didn't matter. He was planning to wait until Anakin contacted him anyway. Why not spend his time doing something he enjoyed?

Still somewhat perplexed, Luke's attention was directed toward the tool satchel that he held lamely at his side as the bag's weight became noticeable. He reached over and unzipped the three sides of the bag. Taking a handle in each hand, he spread the bag apart to look inside.

"Geez," Luke mouthed as he took a quick visual inventory. The bag was well stocked and meticulously organized, with each item fastened securely with elastic straps to both sides. Most of the tools within appeared to be incredibly old and well-worn, but they had been adeptly maintained and appeared to be fully functional. It looked as if most of them had been recycled from a junk pile—and considering that they belonged to his father_, _they probably were.

A few tools appeared to have been modified for special uses—some of which he would need to realign those power converters. Luke smiled, and his hands seemed to itch in anticipation of his upcoming project. Either that, or they were still smarting from the sound zapping he had received.

Closing the sides of the bag, he shifted it into one hand and glanced over at the speeder. Despite _Old Gert's_ benign appearance, Luke had the distinct feeling that he was in for quite a battle. With a plan already formulating in his mind, Luke started to make his way toward the primer-covered nose of his reputedly temperamental charge.


	27. Chapter 27 On Shaky Ground

_A/N #1: I do not own Star Wars, but I do so enjoy playing in George's Galaxy._

_A/N #2: This story would not be what it is without the help of my very competent beta reader, "Deja Know I Been Lookin For Vu." Her invaluable critical eye, suggestions, and patience are truly appreciated._

_A/N #3: I split this off from the previous chapter, __and it still ended up being __over 10,000 words. Wow! I apologize for the length, but there was a lot to cover—and yes, I was having way too much fun with the Anakin/Padmé section to cut it down._

_A/N #4: Again, I did not have the spare time for individual responses to the more than 30 reviews for the last chapter. I thought it more important to upload the next post than delay any longer. However, I do want to thank each and every one of you for taking the time to send me feedback. I respect all of your opinions—even the critical ones. I do want to assure all of you that yes, I do have a detailed outline as to where this story is headed, and no, I am not just making it up as I go. Most of the remaining chapters have been roughed out, yet my muse does tend to go off in tangents at times and add little extras here and there that I had not originally anticipated. Although the pacing may seem slow to some, I feel it is necessary to give time for the characters to develop as I have envisioned them. It is as I have stated in many of my individual responses before: This story is not just about the attempt to repair history, but the journey the characters take along the way that will shape how they will try to do it._

_Okay, off the soapbox and on to the story..._

* * *

**Chapter 27 – On Shaky Ground:**

_Breathe in... Breathe out... Breathe in... Breathe out... _

It still wasn't working. Despite all the years of practice, Anakin remained just as ineffectual as ever in using the Jedi breathing technique to calm himself. He wasn't sure why he still attempted to rely on it. Probably just force of habit... But if he continued much longer, he was sure that he would start hyperventilating and pass out; he was already feeling a little lightheaded.

Redirecting his efforts, Anakin at least managed to will his feet to stop moving. He knew that he couldn't afford to wear a furrowed path into the plush carpet by his incessant pacing. Padmé would already be upset enough by the dusty grime that he had tracked into her office; he didn't want to increase her ire unnecessarily.

It was beyond question that he loved his angelic wife intensely, yet her fastidiousness and abhorrence to clutter were some of the few traits that threatened to drive him crazy. He was no slob—not by a long shot—but oftentimes, the need to be near Padmé far outweighed his concern for cleanliness... Especially during those all-too-few occasions when he would be allowed to return from the front lines of the war—when he was consumed by only his desperate desire to just be close to her again.

His mind flooded with precious memories surrounding those passionate reunions. But he pushed them aside, knowing that they would be extremely detrimental to the tenuous grip he was barely managing to maintain on his flailing emotions.

Cautiously giving his body permission to move again, he stiffly made his way around the oversized Laroon-wood desk to stand in front of the three large paneled windows that looked out on the traffic lanes. Releasing the locking mechanism with a directed tendril of the Force, he grasped the heavy frame around the lower pane of the middle window in both hands and tugged mightily. The ancient pulley system gave a resistant creak before it finally released its hold and he was able to raise up the pane. Cool afternoon air washed over him. Balling his gloved hand into a fist, he used it as a cushion of sorts as he closed his eyes and leaned forward to rest his forehead on the raised window sill.

Despite its difficulty to open, the barely functional window had its merits. Both the physical exertion and the fresh air were doing more to ease his Anakin's troubled mind than all of his previous panting and pacing put together. And he knew that it was only because of Padmé's steadfast refusal to surrender to conformity that the window was still here at all.

Although the Senate had seen more than its share of terrorist attacks through the years, fears of a Separatist insurgency at the start of the war had prompted renewed demands for enhanced security measures. In response, most of the offices in the Senatorial complex had been drastically remodeled, and the vulnerable external access points had been substantially reduced. In many ways, the Senate, like the Jedi Temple, had become an inaccessible fortress.

Padmé had been one of the few officials who had diligently opposed many of these changes. Her stance was simple: locking themselves away, even in the name of security, was only a further example of how government was alienating itself from the people it served. Her arguments had gone virtually ignored.

For her part, she had adamantly refused every attempt to enhance the protection of her offices—even going so far as to politely rebuff the Chancellor's personal request. Captain Typho had finally given up trying to change her mind more than a year ago. Her unwavering resistance to adhere to the new security protocols had not only left her office with the only remaining functioning windows on this side of the building, but it also had meant that the motion-activated, centralized monitoring system had never been installed.

For what wasn't the first time, Anakin thanked the Force for his wife's stubbornness. That monitoring system would have sorely interfered with their infrequent rendezvous. And the functional windows had provided a handy escape route on more than one occasion when a fellow legislator had unexpectedly shown up at her door.

Looking out through that reputation-saving window now, Anakin grimaced as he noted the diminished sunlight gleaming off the skyscrapers in the distance. It had seemed to him that he had been waiting here for hours. _"I'll be back shortly"_ was obviously a political code phrase meaning just the opposite. He once again considered abandoning his lone vigil and making his way to his meeting with the Chancellor—but he just couldn't bring himself to leave.

Although he might want to blame his steadfast refusal to budge on the unappealing prospect of another foray through the ventilation system—or on the fact that he was simply too obstinate to give up on a perfectly good plan—deep down, he knew that he really just wanted to make sure that Padmé was feeling all right. Even though his son's very presence had seemed to alleviate some of the fears that had run rampant since his series of recurring nightmares, he still worried about her.

_Luke!_

That reminded him. He swiveled around and took a step back toward the large desk. Pulling the thickly padded chair out of his way, he repositioned it so that he could sit down facing his wife's tidy workspace. Second drawer from the bottom on the left—that was the one he was looking for. He couldn't help but smirk at the drawer's disorganized contents when he pulled it open.

This was her "personal" drawer. The only place where she kept anything and _everything_ that was not related to her work—brushes, hair-clips, makeup, hard candies—along a few other feminine necessities that until his marriage he had never even known existed… It was also the only location she tolerated any type of clutter. When he had first discovered her secret stash, Padmé had apologetically confessed that she had yet to find the time to organize it. Anakin had asked her not to even try. Using all the gallantry his enamored heart could muster, he told her that the messy drawer was a symbol to him that she would be willing to tolerate such an imperfect mere mortal as himself in her life. Padmé, of course, thought he was daft—but she had never cleaned up that drawer either.

Reaching into the clutter, he foraged by feel for the item that he knew he would find. He was taken aback for a moment when he felt something uncommonly soft that had been stuffed into the far back corner. Pulling out a lacy pink undergarment, he furrowed his brow, trying to understand why she would keep it— _Oh!_ Recognition dawned on him with an accompanying blush as he remembered the last time he had seen the item. He also remembered how it had received those ragged tears that had been rent through the gossamer fabric.

Stashing the incriminating item back into its hiding place, he diligently continued his search. His fingers finally wrapped around a shape he immediately recognized, and he pulled out the comlink that he had given her. He had encoded it himself and linked it directly to his own unit. He was confident that there would be no way that any of their transmissions could be monitored.

Anakin leaned back into the heavily padded chair as he examined the device and rubbed his fingers along the side buttons. He was tempted to activate the comlink and contact his son immediately. But worry over Luke's response was staying his hand. Anakin heaved a sigh as he thought about his frustratingly argumentative, incredibly stubborn, thoroughly infuriating son. He wondered if he would always feel this indecisive when it came to Luke. Through most of his trek through the ventilation ducts, he had stewed over what he would say when he finally made contact with him. The staggering number of diverse reactions that he had imagined had nearly convinced him that he didn't understand who his son really was at all.

But was that really the case? Hadn't Luke's own actions essentially confirmed his heritage? Anakin had already begrudgingly admitted that the rash insolence to attempt such a spontaneous escape was an undeniable Skywalker trait. But Luke had also displayed several other attributes over the time they had been together. Qualities that were undoubtedly inherited directly from his mother. Anakin's eyes narrowed to slits in recognition. In fact, Luke's incalculable stubbornness and single-minded determination reminded him very much of his wife. It was just like the time when Padmé had outwitted him to—

He halted his train of thought with a start and bit down on his lip to avert a residual swell of frustration. No... It wouldn't do to think about _that _little escapade at the moment. He was already upset enough as it was. He needed to figure out what to do about Luke—not reminisce about Padmé's inclination to stumble into trouble.

Anakin pocketed the confiscated comlink and stood up before moving back to the open window. He chuckled resignedly as he crossed his arms over his chest. Despite all the aggravation that Luke's unexpected presence had caused him, he could not help but to feel a twinge of pride at his son's indomitable nature—even though the nefarious actions of his son's earlier misconduct had left him standing alone—s_tranded_—on an empty landing pad.

_So much for calm..._

_Breathe in... Breathe out... Breathe in... Breathe—_

Anakin's body suddenly stiffened as he was alerted by the niggling warning of someone's approach. Stretching out his senses, he relaxed slightly as he brushed against his wife's presence. _Finally!_ He quickly moved to the back corner of the room that was conveniently steeped in shadow.

* * *

The door opened with a pneumatic whoosh, and Padmé walked into her office. The tasteful decor was bathed in a warm mixture of waning afternoon light and comforting shadow. Without bothering to turn on the lights, she removed her bulky cloak and draped it neatly over the arm of the synthetic-leather couch sitting against the back wall. Although leaving the garment like that was generally against her better nature, she was just too mentally drained to take proper care of the item at the moment and would deal with it later.

Padmé unconsciously brushed her hands over the ever-growing bulge that had replaced her slim waistline. Her mind was preoccupied with processing the perilous assertions that had been proffered during her impromptu meeting with Bail and the others. Although she was totally supportive of the democratic ideals that they had discussed, she was still unsure if she would be willing to risk the innocent life growing within her to travel down such a dangerous path.

Oblivious to her familiar surroundings, she made her way to the large windows behind her desk. She crossed her arms over her chest and exhaled deeply. Gazing out on the skyline, she knew she didn't have much time left to ponder this new quandary. Bail had promised to stop by shortly, and she knew that he would expect an answer from her.

The cool breeze that swept over her midsection caused her to break out of her reverie and take notice of the open window. Padmé furrowed her brow in consternation and took a cautious step backward. Something was wrong. That particular window pane had become practically inoperable over the past several years. Building maintenance had flatly refused to repair it, stating that the windows were due to be replaced once the office remodel was done. The fact that it was opened now could only mean...

Her slight shoulders rose perceptibly, and she stiffened as she realized that she was not alone. Her mind raced to thoughts of the hold-out blaster she kept in her desk. Before she could turn and reach for it, two strong arms encircled her from behind. She spun around and opened her mouth, but she was prevented from uttering a protest as her lips were captured in a deep, passionate kiss that took her breath away. Regaining some of her sensibilities, she broke the kiss and pulled herself back. Still held securely in Anakin's embrace, she sternly looked up to see the smiling blue eyes of her husband.

"You should know better than to sneak up on me like that, Anakin," she groused with a tinge of exasperation. "You're lucky that I didn't shoot you."

"I'm not supposed to believe in luck, remember?" Anakin said with a smirk. "Besides, you don't really think that you could get rid of me that easily, now do you?"

"No." She relented and looked aside. "I guess not."

"Oh, by the way…" He leaned down and snagged her lips into another torrid kiss. His passion was so inflamed that it made her toes curl.

"Wow," she gasped breathily once he had finally released her. "What was that for?" She had come to expect unannounced encounters such as this whenever her husband was on planet. Not that she minded—much…

"I owed you," Anakin explained softly. "I had to leave in such a hurry this morning—we didn't have time for a proper goodbye."

"Well, you were running late," she rationalized as she placed her hands on her husband's broad shoulders and gazed up into his smiling face. "And then there was your unexpected guest…"

"Unexpected is right," Anakin huffed as his smile suspiciously faded.

Padmé cocked her head to the side as she felt Anakin tense under her hands. She watched as a flurry of emotions flashed across her husband's handsome face before they dissolved into an expression of stony indifference.

"Ani, what's wrong?" she asked. "I thought you said that Master Jade was a friend? That he wouldn't report you to the Council—"

"He won't say a word, Padmé. I promise," Anakin averred.

He released his hold on Padmé's waist and moved his arms up to her back, pressing her closer to him. She responded immediately, letting him draw her in to a comfortable embrace, and reciprocated by moving her hands to encircle his waist. She could feel both of them beginning to relax within their closeness.

"Besides," he continued softly, "I didn't come here to talk about Luke. I would much rather talk about you."

"Me?" she queried with a coquettish smile. Padmé snuggled her head against her husband's chest and raised her hand to run her fingers through Anakin's hair that curled errantly at the nape of his neck. Feeling its gritty texture, she frowned and pulled away to look directly up at him. "You've been crawling through the ventilation ducts again, haven't you?" she accused.

"Only because I wanted to see you," Anakin replied.

"And why was that?" she questioned.

"I was in the neighborhood?" he offered with a shrug, trying to keep his answer vague.

Padmé frown deepened as she gazed into her husband's deep blue eyes expectantly. She wanted to make sure that he realized that it was past the time for stalling.

"All right, all right," Anakin relented. He had obviously gotten the message. "I could sense that you were upset. Before I did anything else, I wanted to come here to check on you. I had to know that you were all right. So... Now I'm here... How you are feeling?"

"Ani, I'm fine," she sighed with a tinge of annoyance. "Honestly! Sometimes you're worse than Threepio."

Anakin face fell as he appeared stricken by the comparison. "I'm sorry, Love. I didn't mean to upset you," he quickly apologized, "It's just that I'm worried about you. You shouldn't be pushing yourself so hard—especially not in your condition—"

"Anakin!" she cut him off sharply in warning.

He dropped his head and sighed. "I'm—I'm sorry," he apologized again. "But this is all so new to me—being a father, I mean—or almost one…" He focused his attention on his wife's conspicuous bulge, and he moved his hand to rest over it. "You've had months to prepare for our child's arrival, Padmé; I've had but a few days. I have a lot of time to make up for."

Anakin pulled his eyes repentantly up to meet hers and found her quickly losing the struggle to suppress the smile tugging at her lips. He furrowed his brow as he apparently realized that her admonishment had actually been an attempt to tease him.

"Yes, I suppose that you do have a point," she acknowledged, finally letting her smile wash over her delicate features. "I will try to be more tolerant in the future of your unbridled urges to hover over me like a mother Nuna." She was immensely enjoying the fact that, for once, she had managed to fluster him.

"You must remember, Padmé," Anakin whispered playfully in her ear as he leaned forward. "You're dealing with a Jedi. There is no try." Hearing her giggle in response, he pulled back and gave her a light peck on her forehead.

"Anakin." She paused and took a moment to examine his face. "How are _you_ feeling?" she asked, placing her soft hands on the sides of his face. "You look pale."

"Me?" He seemed surprised by her concern. "I'm fine," he averred. Dropping his head down, Anakin captured her lips in another scorching kiss. "Hmm—especially now," he murmured after releasing her.

"You still haven't told me why you are here," Padmé said as she tried to temper her amorous husband's passions before they got out of hand. "I think it's quite time that you did so."

Padmé's stalwart questioning seemed to have finally gotten through to her recalcitrant husband. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, Anakin closed his eyes as he took a deep, centering breath. She knew from experience that he was just about to reveal the real reason behind his impromptu appearance. She braced herself for whatever unpleasant truth she was sure that she was about to hear.

"Actually," his voice came out barely more than a husky whisper. "I came over here to see the Chancellor—"

Anakin stopped in mid-sentence as Padmé abruptly pulled away from him. She turned and took a step toward the windows as she crossed her arms tightly. Fixing her stare once more on the never ending flow of speeders against the skyline, Padmé kept herself from speaking until she had managed to tamp down her flaring anger. She was sure that if she turned around, she would find him staring at her completely befuddled.

Despite the depth of her love for her valiant Jedi husband, his blind trust and unwavering loyalty to the Chancellor was about to drive her crazy. If only it wasn't so difficult to hide her discordant feelings regarding that man! The last time that she tried to explain to Anakin why she was growing to distrust the Chancellor, it had triggered the worst arguments they had ever had. She wouldn't allow this situation to spiral out of control like that one had.

"For what reason?" she asked icily. The woman who stood in front of the panoramic scene of skyscrapers was no longer simply Anakin's beloved wife and mother-to-be. She had completely transformed herself into the composed persona of Senator Amidala.

"What is upsetting you so, Padmé?" Anakin asked earnestly.

"I'm not upset," she refuted. "It's just…" She tightened her arms. "I doubt that you will be successful in your quest to see the Chancellor, Anakin. You may have wasted your trip, that's all."

"What do you mean?"

"I was with the Chancellor this morning," she said brusquely. "The Loyalist committee had finally managed to arrange a meeting with him. It took weeks to schedule the appointment."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?" he asked as he cautiously walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

"Hmm, it should have been," Padmé answered as she closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.

It was so hard to keep up her resolve when he embraced her like this. And in her heart, she knew that Anakin just didn't understand what was so upsetting to her in the first place. Anakin had never bothered to take the time to comprehend the shadowy realm of politics. Why should he? When he faced a problem, she knew he preferred to deal with it head-on. He just wasn't the type of person who had the patience to spin the necessary web of innuendo and hyperbole that appeared to be all the Senate could accomplish of late. How could she help him to understand now?

"The Chancellor seemed quite apathetic during our meeting—even distracted." Padmé opened her eyes and leaned back into her husband's comforting embrace as she began to explain. "Before we could get through half of our agenda, he abruptly dismissed us."

"Why would he do that?" Anakin rumbled.

"I'm not certain," she replied with a frown. She sunk further into her husband's chest, feeling the soothing rhythmic beating of his heart behind her head. "All that he said was that he needed to prepare to meet the newest member of the Jedi Council. Now, he won't take any of our messages. I can't even get that ditz of a temporary assistant to schedule another appointment."

"I'm sorry," Anakin apologized and leaned his chin on the top of her head as he inhaled deeply to take in the wildflower-and-honey scent of her hair. "I didn't mean to add to your stress."

"_You're_ sorry?" she questioned, turning to face him. Pulling herself back a step, she grasped her husband's forearms—unwilling to completely break contact. She watched him suspiciously as he dipped his head down and then glanced back out to the skyline. "Why do you think that any of this is your fault?"

He cleared his throat as his hands slid down to the sides of her waist. "Because," he started cautiously, "the Chancellor has been expecting me—and—he still is, actually," his voice cracked uncharacteristically. "I'm the newest member of the Jedi Council."

"Anakin?"

He didn't reply, other than to tip his head to the side with a slight grimace and shrug.

Padmé was momentarily rendered speechless by his odd behavior. She studied his shuttered expression as she attempted to piece together the puzzle that was her husband. He _had _been acting rather suspiciously when he arrived home late last night. And then he had been so adamant that he couldn't be late for the Council meeting this morning. Did that mean...?

"Oh, Anakin," Padmé breathed excitedly as an astounded smile blossomed over her lips. "I'm so proud of you. I know how much you have wanted this." She wrapped her arms tightly around her husband. "I guess I should start calling you _Master_ Jedi now?"

Anakin stiffened. "Padmé," he quietly whispered. "I'm not a Master."

"What?" She pulled back sharply and looked up in confusion to see her husband's hardened expression.

"The Council did not see fit to make me a Master," Anakin responded stonily. "They only agreed to follow the Chancellor's mandate and allow my appointment as his 'Special Representative.'" He scowled as if the words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Padmé hesitated as she bit down on her lower lip and evaluated Anakin's acerbic explanation. It was evident that Anakin was having difficulty mastering the flurry of emotions battling within him. She couldn't blame him. Her own fierce protectiveness had swelled as she shared Anakin's feelings of bitter disappointment.

Instinctively realizing that he needed her calming presence more than her words, she pressed herself back into his embrace and leaned her head against his chest. They stood together in silence as she slowly rocked from side to side until she began to feel her husband begin to relax around her.

"What does the Chancellor say about what happened?" Padmé finally asked.

"I—I don't know," Anakin stammered hauntingly. "I haven't met with him yet."

Padmé stilled as his answer sunk into her understanding. "But Anakin," she replied, perplexed. "Palpatine was expecting you hours ago. Where have you been?"

"I was with Luke," he confessed, his words seeming to slip out easily.

"Luke?" Somehow, Anakin's admission didn't surprise her—yet she wasn't quite sure why it had not. "You mean Master Jade? Was he involved in the Council meeting, too?"

She could feel Anakin's arms tighten around her. "Um, not exactly," he answered tentatively. "I was pretty upset after Master Windu announced the Jedi Council's decision. I sort of...bumped into him...soon after the meeting was adjourned. We left the Temple together to talk and ended up at Dex's Diner. Then we... We apparently lost track of the time."

She couldn't help but smile. "You must like your friend quite a bit to spend so much time with him."

"Yes, I guess you could say that," Anakin affirmed. "We have a lot in common—more than you can possibly imagine." He began to rub his hands in small circles over her back. "In a lot of ways, he reminds me a little of you."

"Really?" she murmured, surprised. "Actually, I was thinking that he resembles you quite a bit—or at least how I imagine you will be—in a few decades, that is."

Anakin stopped her massage seemingly with a flinch. He then gently moved his hands up to Padmé's shoulders. He pushed her back just far enough so he could look upon her face. Padmé couldn't understand why her statement had seemed to rattle him so profoundly. Anakin furrowed his brows and looked deeply into her eyes. She got the distinct impression that he was using the Force to attempt to reach someplace deep within her.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Her question seemed to break whatever trance her husband had worked himself into. She watched in concern as he swallowed hard and appeared to make himself to relax.

"I..." He inhaled deeply wrapped his arms around her again before speaking again."I would never grow a beard," he stated with finality.

She giggled at his fervent response as she reached up onto her toes to peck his lips with a light kiss. "That's all right, Sweetheart," she said as she settled back into his warm embrace. "You don't have to. I love you just the way you are."

They stood silently together. Each wrapped within the other's arms and basking in soothing comfort. They both needed this. Since the start of their marriage, Padmé had yearned for a time when such a simple act of devotion like this could be the norm for them rather than the exception—a time when they no longer had to hide away and keep their personal lives secret.

With the baby coming, she knew that everything was about to change forever. Although neither of them had wanted to talk about the consequences that the birth of their child would bring, Padmé was confident about one thing: despite all of her fears, she was steadfast in her belief that together they could conquer whatever uncertainty and upheaval the galaxy was about to wield their way. Their love would protect them and keep their precious family safe.

"Anakin," Padmé broke the silence, her pondering bringing a new thought to her. "Did Luke mention if his wife and son were here on Coruscant?"

"No," Anakin answered thoughtfully. "But I'm sure that they're not. I believe that they are very far away, actually."

"That must be why he seemed so sad when I met him," she mused. "He must be missing them terribly."

"You thought that he was sad?"Anakin pulled back just enough to look down at his wife with perplexed eyes.

"Yes, I'm sure that he was," she stated assertively. "Didn't you notice?"

"No, I didn't."

"Humph! Some Jedi you are," she said with a teasing smile, leaning back into her husband's comfort.

Anakin tightened his arms around his wife and seemed to contemplate her comment.

"Anakin," she broke in again.

"Yes, Love?"

"Why don't you invite Master Jade over to our apartment for dinner?"

Anakin stilled. "Dinner?"

Padmé could feel his body stiffening again. She pulled back in confusion, and when she looked up at him, she noticed that he seemed quite anxious.

"Yes," she answered him with a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sure that he would enjoy an evening away from the Temple. And since he already knows about us, there's no reason to hide." She smiled. "Just think—it will be the first opportunity that we have had to entertain like a normal married couple."

"Um, Padmé," Anakin said hesitantly and then gulped down a swallow. "I'm not sure that he would willingly accept the invitation. And even if he does, I don't think that it would be wise to bring him back into our home."

"Sure it would," she averred confidently. "You already brought him there once—and without my permission, I might add. Besides, I've always heard from you how bland the food is at the Jedi Temple. I'm sure that your friend would enjoy an evening out as well as a home-cooked meal."

"Well, I guess I could ask him—"

"Wonderful," Padmé said with a smile. She leaned her head back onto his chest and furrowed her brow as she thought through the logistics of her developing plan. "I don't think that tomorrow will work. The Senate will be in session in the morning, and I have several committee meetings in the afternoon that will be impossible to reschedule on such short notice. Do you know how long Master Jade will be staying on Coruscant? Can we plan our dinner for the following evening? Say about 1800 hours?"

"Isn't that the opening night of the Galactic Opera?" Anakin asked, conveniently ignoring her questions.

"And when, exactly, did you become such an expert on the Coruscanti social season?" She smiled.

"Um…" Anakin's apprehension seemed to intensify as he shuddered, as if he were trying to prepare himself for her reaction to his answer."The Chancellor sort of mentioned it to me the last time that I met with him. Actually, he suggested that I attend. He said that it would help to broaden my understanding of the galaxy beyond the narrow views of the Jedi."

"And you believe that rubbish?"

Anakin snorted. "Come on, Padmé. The only 'broadening of my understanding of the galaxy' I want to do is with you." He gave her a salacious grin.

"Good," she stated with a confident nod of her head. "Now you have a valid reason not to go."

"But Padmé," he countered. "Won't you need to attend? The Chancellor seemed to think that this opening had some major implications on the future of the Republic."

"Anakin, I have to deal with major implications on the future of the Republic practically every day," she refuted. "I would rather not endure the company of pompous politicians any more than I need to. Besides, I'm sure that there will be enough of my colleagues vying for attention from the various HoloNet reporters that I won't even be missed."

Anakin couldn't help but smile.

"And to be totally honest, I would much rather spend an evening with my husband and his friend than sit in a stuffy theater watching a group of floating Mon Calamari." She raised her chin defiantly. "Don't worry so much, Anakin. I am sure that I can come up with an appropriate excuse as to my unavoidable absence."

"Are you sure that there's nothing I can say to dissuade you, Senator?"

"Can you ever?"

He mutely shook his head, obviously knowing better than to refute her statement.

"All right. Now let's see." Padmé paused as she continued to formulate her plans. "I will need to have Moteé clear my calendar for that day. I want to devote enough time to prepare a proper meal—"

"Um, Padmé," Anakin interrupted. "Maybe you should let Threepio prepare the meal?"

"Threepio?" Padmé pulled back and raised an eyebrow as she peered suspiciously at her husband. "You don't think that I can do it, do you?" She narrowed her eyes accusingly. "Anakin, I will have you know that I have been practicing over all these many months that you have been away. I promise you that this dinner will not turn out anything like the last time."

"I'm sure not," Anakin quickly agreed. "But you know how Threepio gets offended if he can't help you around the apartment. Besides, the last time I ran a diagnostic on his databanks, I think I came across my mom's bantha stew recipe. I would sure like to find out if it's as good as I remember."

"Bantha stew?"

"What can I say? You know I'm just a meat and tubers kind of man. I'm sure Luke would like it as well. It will be fine, My Love. I'm sure of it."

"But bantha stew? It's so—plain for an evening meal. I was thinking of something much more exotic."

Anakin suddenly blanched three shades lighter.

"Anakin?" Padmé asked as her concern for her husband spiked. "Are you sure you're okay?" She placed a hand on the side of his face and felt his clammy skin.

"Um, sure..." He wrapped the fingers of his own hand over hers and guided it down to rest over his heart. "I just remembered—I'm pretty late—and I really need to be going..."

"Are you sure you are not conveniently trying to find a reason to avoid spending an evening with your wife?"

"Of course not, Padmé," he protested in mock indignation. 'If you know me at all, then you must realize that that's exactly what I want to do. I just don't want you exhausting yourself by toiling away all day over a hot cooking unit, that's all." He pulled her closer to him with the arm that remained behind her back. "I'll tell you what... Take the whole day off like you planned. I will conveniently arrange to be unavailable to both the Chancellor and the Jedi so that we can spend the time together. Let me pamper you, Love. I'm sure that we can find something to do to occupy our time together while Threepio fixes the meal."

Padmé closed her eyes and smiled. Her husband could be so romantic when he put his mind to it. "Well," she murmured softly. "I guess I would be willing to take your suggestion under advisement."

"I love you, Padmé," he rumbled soothingly. "With all my heart and soul. I always will."

She wished that they could stay like this for eternity. But she also knew that the pressing demands of their responsibilities would not be put off much longer. This magical moment needed to end. She pulled back one final time to look upon her husband's loving face.

"Now, you were right, Anakin," she uttered as her duty-bound resolve began to congeal. "You probably better leave. You need to go see the Chancellor, and I have a meeting in a few minutes with Senator Organa. He has already found you here far too often not to not have suspicions about us. I imagine that he is just too much of a gentleman to question me about them."

Anakin grimaced. "Say no more, Love. I'm leaving." He raised a hand to the back of her head and gently pulled her closer. He captured her mouth again in one last, exquisitely long, passionate kiss that made them both simultaneously gasped for breath when it finally ended. "I'll see you tonight," he whispered and pulled away.

Padmé wavered for a moment as she tried to recover from the effects of her husband's ardent goodbye. She blinked her eyes several times as she attempted to regain her sensibilities, only then realizing that she was standing alone in her office.

_Where did he go? _She whipped her head around to scan the vacant space as she tried to come up with an answer. Padmé stilled immediately and frowned as she caught sight of the open window. Shaking her head in dismay, she took a step forward, placing a hand on the sill for support as she leaned as far over the ledge as she dared.

"Oh, Anakin," she huffed in exasperation. "You could have just as easily used the door..."

* * *

"How uncivilized," Obi-Wan grumbled as he pushed himself further back into the thick foliage of the surrounding Carnosa bush. Between the sickeningly sweet aroma emanating from the plant's abundant clusters of star-shaped flowers and the thick, gooey sap that seemed intent on dripping down the back of his neck, he was anything but amused.

He—Obi-Wan Kenobi: Jedi Master, highly respected General—a member of the Jedi Council, for stars' sake—had been relegated to hiding in the bushes. It was the last situation in which he would have ever imagined to find himself. He scowled at the thought as he drew his legs up tighter to his chest and shifted his weight to relieve the pain in his rear caused by the unyielding roots he was sitting on.

Without a doubt, he wholly blamed his troublesome ex-Padawan for his current predicament—although he would never say a word to him about it. In fact, he would be thoroughly mortified if Anakin ever found out about this mess. This was far worse than what had happened on Cato Neimoidia. Obi-Wan knew that Anakin would never let him live it down if he heard about this.

Obi-Wan shook his head. How had the situation gotten so out of hand? Anakin should have returned from his meeting with the Chancellor hours ago. He should have been able to deliver the Council's "off-the-record" message to the young man long before Master Windu returned from the Works. But of course, where Anakin Skywalker was concerned, nothing ever went quite as planned...

He had given up his fruitless vigil in Anakin's apartment when it had finally become clear that his ex-Padawan was not coming back any time soon. Being so unsettled from his earlier confrontations with the young man, he had gone back to his own apartment to take the opportunity for private meditation. That had obviously been a mistake. He had inadvertently drifted much deeper into the Force than intended and had completely lost track of the time.

He had been unceremoniously pulled out of his meditation when he picked up on the overwhelming sense of Master Windu's displeasure. And it had not taken him long to realize that the Koran Master's foul mood was now focused directly on _him_.

Obi-Wan had reasoned that something unexpected must have occurred to thwart Master Windu's investigation into the whereabouts of the remaining Sith Lord. The man's Force presence was as turbulent as he had ever felt it, and his intention to confront either Anakin or Obi-Wan was blatantly clear. Whatever Mace had wanted to say to him, Obi-Wan was determined to avert their meeting until he had at least had the opportunity to deliver the Council's message to Anakin.

But avoiding Mace was apparently just as difficult as finding his elusive ex-Padawan. The refectory, the exercise rooms, and the meditation wing had offered no refuge. He had even had to jump into the cockpit of Anakin's newly painted fighter in the Temple's hangar bay and practically threaten to deactivate the astromech droid guarding it to not reveal his presence. What was worse, he had felt compelled to thank that infernal contraption for his silence after Mace had left to continue his search elsewhere. Running out of options, Obi-Wan had finally retreated here to the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

Along with an abundance of secluded retreats—many of which he had discovered during previous hunting expeditions to find Anakin through the years—he had planned to bide his time until he could intercept Master Yoda. It was well known that the Grand Master enjoyed a stroll through the gardens in the late afternoons. His hope was that the Grand Master would intercede on his behalf and defuse the growing tension between him and Mace. It wasn't as if Yoda hadn't had generations of experience with mediating the differences between feuding Masters—and wayward Knights for that matter.

He rubbed a calloused hand over his worn features as he once again silently berated the young man for all the trouble he had caused him. Feeling a familiar presence, he looked up just in time to see the ancient Grand Master shuffling down the path in front of him. Obi-Wan started to shift in an attempt to untangle from the mass of sticky branches, but he immediately halted his movement when he felt the thrumming warning that Master Windu was coming closer, too. _Blast!_

"Master Windu," Yoda greeted. "Troubled you are."

"Yes, Master," Mace confirmed, "very much so."

"Discuss this we will," Yoda said as he moved to a decorative bench along the pathway. He used his cane to help prop himself up onto the stone slab that had been placed in front of a large Carnosa bush. Obi-Wan leaned further into his hiding place while he watched in dismay as Mace joined Yoda on the bench right in front of him. He closed his eyes and concentrated on reducing his Force presence as much as he could.

"Our investigation in the Works has had to be permanently suspended," Mace supplied with a heavy sigh. "The building where we found the entry into the underground tunnels was completely obliterated during the Separatist bombardment. If I didn't know better, I would say that it had been specifically targeted. Any evidence we might have hoped to recover has been destroyed."

"Disappointing news this is," the Grand Master said quietly as his elongated ears drooped with dismay. Yoda twisted his head to look up at the Koran Master. "But sense more on your mind, I do."

"I worry about the boy," Mace confirmed. "I don't believe that he is up to this assignment. He seems—conflicted."

"Little trust do you have in young Skywalker," Yoda stated as he turned away and shuttered his eyes to slits.

"You know that I am not the only one with concerns," Mace refuted. "And you can't tell me that his disappearance since our meeting this morning does not trouble you as well."

Yoda nodded. "Concerned I am," he agreed. "But for the cause more than the action." He turned back to Mace. "If worried you are, then to Obi-Wan you must speak."

"Don't think I haven't tried," Mace grumbled. "I have been looking for him since I returned to the Temple. It is as if he has mysteriously disappeared as well."

There was an odd twinkle in the Grand Master's eye as he exhaled deeply. "Closer than you think, Master Kenobi may be," he said knowingly.

Mace had apparently not picked up on Yoda's enigmatic response, as his attention had been captured by a young Nautolan girl striding down one of the adjacent paths.

"Padawan Tang," Windu's voice boomed through the cavernous room. "Come here, please."

Doa Tang was a fifteen-year-old Padawan who had lost her Master over a year ago during a rescue mission on Vandos. She had been critically injured herself during the skirmish with Separatist forces and had lost several of her long head tentacles. One of the ever-growing number of "Temple orphans," her constant regime of walking the corridors in an attempt to regain her strength and adjust to her compromised sensory perception had inadvertently made her the one of the most visible reminders of what this war was exacting from the Jedi.

At Master Windu's call, Doa pulled to a stop and turned toward the sound of her name. Her large burgundy eyes widened in surprise as she recognized the two distinguished Masters. She then hurried over toward them.

"Master Windu, Master Yoda," she said as she bowed respectfully before them. "Is there some way I can be of service?"

"Padawan Tang," Mace addressed the teenager. "Have you seen Master Kenobi during your travels through the Temple?"

"Not recently, sir," she answered quickly.

Mace frowned. "What about Knight Skywalker?"

"I saw him leaving the Temple earlier today, sir," the Nautolan girl reported. "In fact," she said, dropping her head and furrowing her brow as she concentrated, "now that I'm thinking about it, Master Kenobi may have been with him. But I really wasn't paying close enough attention to be sure."

"No, of course not," Mace replied as he folded his arms across his chest and stroked his chin.

"Describe this companion of young Skywalker, you must," Yoda interrupted, a perplexed expression on his wizened features.

"Certainly, Master," Tang responded. "I just saw them as they were crossing the main foyer, and I didn't get a very good look at them. They both had the cowls of their cloaks up. I wouldn't have even recognized Master Skywalker except for his Force signature. In fact, he seemed to be projecting himself stronger than usual. I had felt him three corridors away and came to investigate."

"And what of his companion?" Yoda asked again, trying to keep the girl on track.

"He was shorter than Master Skywalker. And I got the impression that he was older, too. He seemed a bit nervous, as he kept turning his head. I did get a glance at part of his face just as they reached the doors. I couldn't see much, but I could tell that he had a beard."

"Well, then," Mace conceded and looked over toward the Grand Master. "That must have been Master Kenobi."

"Hum," Yoda murmured as he contemplated the girl's description. He tightened his small hands around his gimer stick and frowned deeply.

"Thank you, Padawan Tang," Mace addressed the young Nautolan once more. "If you see either Master Kenobi or Knight Skywalker return, please inform them that I am looking for them."

"I will, sir," she answered. "But I doubt that I will see Master Skywalker again tonight."

"Oh?" The Koran Master narrowed his eyes. "And what makes you say that?"

"Well," she hesitated, as if realizing that she had made a terrible blunder.

"Speak what you know, young one," Yoda encouraged her. "In confidence, your words will be kept."

"Yes, Master," she acknowledged with pensive look. "It's just that—I generally see Master Skywalker leaving the Temple in the early evenings when he is not on assignment. But I never see him return—not until shortly before dawn, that is."

"Shortly before dawn?" Mace scowled and shot a distasteful look at the Grand Master. "And why, Padawan Tang, are _you_ up at such an hour?"

"I don't sleep well, Master Windu," Doa confessed as she lowered her head. "I have... dreams—"

"Important your rest is, young one," Yoda interrupted. "Replenish your body with sleep you must so that your health can return. If troubled your dreams remain, speak to a soul healer you must."

"Yes, Master Yoda." The Nautolan's remaining head tentacles twitched nervously. "Thank you for the advice. I will make an appointment the next time I walk by the Ward."

Mace nodded in agreement. "You can go back to your travels, Padawan. Once again, thank you for your information."

Without another word, the young Nautolan bowed respectfully and then hastily walked away.

"Most disturbing this is," Yoda muttered to himself. He appeared to be deep in thought.

"Well, at least Kenobi and Skywalker are together," Mace said.

"Come. To my chambers we must go," Yoda said, ignoring Mace's comment as if he had not heard it. He jumped off of the bench and began to amble down the path toward his private meditation chamber. "Meditate on this I must."

From under the bush, Obi-Wan Kenobi was equally as perplexed as Master Yoda. He silently wondered who this mysterious companion of Anakin's had been. It wasn't as if his moody ex-Padawan had a large circle of friends. Besides, the man's description hadn't sounded like any Jedi currently residing at the Temple—other than him, of course. It certainly was a mystery—and one that he really didn't have time to investigate at the moment.

Obi-Wan shook his head in dismay as he began to extract himself from under the Carnosa bush. He stood up and wiped the palms of his hands against his mud-stained pants to remove some of the sticky sap that clung to them and then brushed the remnants of twigs and dried leaves from his gummy hair. He was a mess—and clearly in dire need of a shower...

Once that task was accomplished, then the next order of business would be to stop his dallying and deliver the Council's message to Anakin. If his wayward ex-Padawan was not going to be returning to the Temple anytime soon—and the truth radiating from the young girl's words were enough to confirm his suspicion that that was the case—then he was just going to have to go out and find him. And if he happened upon this older, short, bearded companion of his—then all the better. At least one mystery would be solved. And maybe _he_ could explain the cause for Anakin's inscrutable behavior.

* * *

Luke stretched up as far as he could from under the cramped engine compartment. He jostled a hydrospanner in one hand as the other pushed against the barely flexible heat shield in an attempt to make as much room to work as possible. Although it was still nearly impossible to reach where he needed to from here, as the engine compartment was so tight, it was the only possible angle in which he could be successful. He was starting to think that he had discovered another reason why so few of these speeder models had survived through the years. He was becoming aware of a growing urge to push this malevolent contraption off the roof of the tallest high-rise he could find.

Of course, it wasn't just the challenging design of the speeder that was causing his mood to sour. The uncomfortable humidity had increased tremendously as the day wore on, undoubtedly due to damage to the planet's atmospheric filtration system caused by the recent Separatist attack. Luke felt more like he was lying in the jungles of Yavin IV than in a back alley on Coruscant. Although he had felt a cool breeze during the short time he spent on the Senate complex landing pad, it definitely hadn't made it down to this level.

With the stifling heat, it didn't take him long to shed his heavy cloak and drape it over the side of the speeder. He had also exchanged the layers of his father's pristine tunics for Tycen's worn sleeveless undershirt and stained poncho. The thought of soiling his borrowed Jedi uniform with engine grease and street grime seemed unconscionable. But due to the lack of protection, his bare arms were now decorated with an impressive pattern of scrapes and scratches resulting from their intimate contact with the sharp metal that made up the speeder's undercarriage.

It had also been a struggle for Luke to keep his attention focused on his work project. Along with his overshadowing worries about his father, Dex had been a near-constant interruption. They had chatted quite a bit_—_when Dex was not needed in the kitchen.

Their conversations had convinced Luke that the Besalisk had missed his calling and should have been either an information broker or a psychologist rather than a short-order cook. Although Luke had not intended to divulge any information about himself, what had started out as an innocent exchange regarding the variations of ruby bliels had turned into something far more serious.

It hadn't taken Dex very long to wheedle away at his defenses until Luke had admitted that he had grown up on Tatooine. Dex had simply chuckled at Luke's unintentional admission, proclaiming that along with moisture farmers and scoundrels, Tatooine obviously had an amazing propensity to produce some of the best mechanics in the galaxy.

The blond waitress_—_Luke thought her name was Hermione_—_had finally called Dex away when the dinner crowd had started to filter into the little diner. After his exit, Luke had been left alone to contend with his task. And at the moment, nothing else much mattered to him other than loosening that last problematic bolt... The sharp trill from the comlink attached to his belt broke Luke's concentration and caused his grip to slip off the greasy hydrospanner. The heavy tool fell out of his fingers and, with a resounding thump, bounced off his forehead.

_"Shavit!"_ he cursed under his breath. Preoccupied with his task, he grabbed the wayward tool and reached back up into the narrow workspace. Other than that motivator off Tyson's air-taxi, it had been years since he had had the opportunity to spend this much time fixing something_—_much less working on such a large project like this_. _For some reason, he couldn't remember having had the urge to swear obscenities nearly as frequently as seemed necessary now.

The relentless chiming from the comlink was only adding to his frustration. With an annoyed sigh, he reached out with the Force and clicked the small lever on the side of the device up one notch.

"Skywalker," he growled in annoyance. Luke held still for a moment when he was met with nothing more than a long, hesitant silence. _Stang!_ How could he have been so thoughtless? He had answered the blasted thing before even checking to see who was calling...

_"Luke?"_ His father's tentative voice finally floated out of the device.

Luke closed his eyes and slowly released the breath he hadn't been aware he was holding in relief. It appeared that his tenuous sliver of Corellian luck must still be holding. "Yeah," he grunted in response. Luke ignored the ensuing silence and went back to work_—_his focus once more consumed with the struggle to work the greasy hydrospanner over the last connection bolt.

"_The way you answer my comlink... How could you be sure it was me?"_ Anakin's voice was still hesitant, but it seemed tinged with a little irritation.

"That doesn't really matter right now," Luke said with a grimace as he started tugging on the bolt. "If you didn't want me to answer your comlink, then why did you call?" The hydrospanner took that exact moment to slip off the bolt and knock against one of the exposed connectors. The ensuing spark conducted down the tool and back into his exposed hand. Reflex caused his fingers to open, and the offending hydrospanner dropped to the ground.

"Kriff! What a stoopa, inkabunga azalus, piece of poodoo—"

_"LUKE!" _Anakin interrupted frantically. _"What's going on? Where are you?"_

Silenced from his tirade by Anakin's desperation, Luke decided that he wouldn't be able to continue his work until he first dealt with his father. He rolled himself out from under the speeder and shook his hand repeatedly in an attempt to regain feeling in his fingers. Checking to confirm that there was no one else in the alley to hear their conversation, he pulled the comlink from his belt and clicked the lever the second notch to activate visual reception. He was met by a miniature version of Anakin. His concern was quite evident from the expression on his face.

"Right now," Luke answered with a heavy sigh as he raked his hair out of his eyes, "I'm fighting with _Old Gert_—and—I think she just may be winning."

_"Why?"_

"I found a slightly misaligned converter," he explained as he leaned back against the speeder's side panel. "But to get to it, I had to take apart the entire array."

_"Well, that would explain the vibration I felt,"_ Anakin pondered. _"But you better be careful with that. I had to remove her grounding shield a few years back to make room for a secondary turbo booster. If you don't take precautions, it could lead to a pretty nasty bite."_

"Thanks for the warning." Luke couldn't help but chuckle. "But I already found out about that—several times, in fact."

_"Sorry to hear it_." Anakin's small face seemed to wince in empathy. _"Well, at least it sounds like you're keeping yourself busy."_

"Immensely," Luke replied sarcastically. He took a moment to gather his thoughts and closed his eyes as he released a deep breath. "Listen, Anakin," Luke softened his voice. "I'm—um... I'm sorry that I took off earlier. I should never have left you like that on the landing pad."

The miniature projection of Anakin dropped his head for a moment and then glanced to the side. "_No, Luke,"_ he intoned softly. _"It's me who should apologize. I didn't listen to you. And then I cornered you into a situation with very few options."_ He shook his head and blinked rapidly. _"I failed you as—"_

"Let's just say we both have some things we need to work on," Luke interrupted.

_"Fine,"_ Anakin agreed. He straightened his tall frame to full height. _"We can start on that when we talk again. I have something to ask you about. And I would really like to do it in person... You do want to meet again, don't you?"_

"Yes, of course," Luke assured him as he took another deep breath. "Do you want to come back to Dex's, or should I meet you somewhere else?"

_"I'm not done here, and I don't know how much longer I will be. I am on my way to meet with the Chancellor—"_

"You haven't seen Palpatine yet?"

_"No, not yet," _Anakin supplied with a shrug. "_You gave me a great deal to think about before I saw him," _he explained. _"And then I got rather distracted by your mother..."_

Luke smiled slightly. Maybe just his presence could help to divert his father from his dangerous path. "Well, I guess you better get to it, then." His smile quickly faded. "Contact me again when you are finished, and we can decide where to meet. I have a feeling I'm going to be occupied for quite a while longer with _Old __Gert_ here."

_"I will,"_ Anakin agreed with a relaxed nod.

Luke was just about to flick off the comlink when his father's voice broke out over the device once more.

_"Luke,"_ Anakin called out. He appeared to hesitate for a moment, as if trying to fight down a surge of anxiety. _"Are you sure you are okay?"_

Luke frowned. "Yes, of course. Why are you asking?"

Anakin's image dipped his head as he shook it resolutely. _"It's—it's nothing. We can talk more about it when we meet." _He inhaled deeply and looked up to meet the eyes of his son. _"Just promise me that you will be careful."_

Luke smiled and nodded his head in acceptance of the request. "You should take your own advice, Father. Be careful as well," he said and clicked off the comlink.

* * *

_"You should take your own advice, Father. Be careful as well."_

Anakin stood silently for a long moment with his eyes focused on the deactivated comlink in his hand. His brow furrowed in consternation as he tried to make sense of Luke's parting words. It had sounded like a warning—and he had even felt his son's concern through the Force—but it still made no sense to him. Why would Luke be concerned for his safety? It wasn't like he was doing anything dangerous. He was simply on his way to meet with the Chancellor.

Knowing that he would find no answers to his quandary in the empty hallway in which he stood, he slid Padmé's confiscated comlink onto his utility belt and made his way to the turbolift. He had a distinct feeling of déjà vu as he stepped into the awaiting pod and remembered his last trip to the correct level. He probably should have planned a better exit from Padmé's office than jumping out of that window. If he had only employed a bit of forethought, he wouldn't find it necessary to retrace his steps now. He chuckled to himself at the idea. When had he ever relied that much on forethought?

The lift doors opened, and he quickly made his way down the empty winding corridor towards the Chancellor's office. There were no distractions this time, so his trip was unhindered. He walked into the darkened reception area and looked around at the vacant desk. Hadn't Padmé mentioned that there was a new girl working here? Was he so late that she had already been dismissed?

Before he could contemplate this issue further, the doors to the inner chamber opened to reveal the Chancellor standing in the middle of the opening. The waning afternoon light filtering through the back transparisteel wall contrasted with the Chancellor's dark robes and made him appear as a dark silhouette against its muted brightness. Although his face was mostly obscured in shadow, Anakin could still see the Chancellor's easily recognizable features. There appeared to be an inexplicably harsh edge to the older man's eyes that Anakin never remembered noticing before.

"You're late," the Chancellor stated dourly.

"I_—_I'm sorry." Anakin stumbled through an apology. "I was tied up, and I seemed to have lost track of the time."

The Chancellor remained eerily still as he critically scrutinized the young Jedi. After what seemed like an eternity, Palpatine's features finally mollified. The corners of his lips crinkled as a slow smile began to emerge across his features.

"No harm done, my boy," Palpatine's voice had softened to the kindly tone that Anakin was used to hearing. "I was simply beginning to fear for your well-being. I would be terribly disappointed to think that the Jedi would keep you from coming to see me."

Anakin blew out a breath of relief as he bowed respectfully. "I am sorry if I worried you, Chancellor," he apologized. "I meant no disrespect."

"No, of course you didn't." Palpatine's smile broadened as he wrapped an arm around the young Jedi's shoulders and guided him into his office. "Well, it doesn't really matter, I suppose. You're here now," he said with fatherly concern. "Come in, my boy, and tell me all about your meeting with that Council of yours this morning."

As Anakin stepped into the Chancellor's inner office, he felt a chill skitter down his spine. He hesitated for only a moment before continuing on to one of the large, overstuffed chairs placed in front of the Chancellor's extravagantly ornate desk. Sitting down, he silently wondered why he had never noticed how cold the room felt before.


End file.
